


Journey of a Thousand Miles

by TristansGirl



Category: NSYNC
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-11
Updated: 2012-01-11
Packaged: 2017-10-29 08:52:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/318008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TristansGirl/pseuds/TristansGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dreams are just dreams, yes? Justin's about to find out when a beautiful stranger calls out to him for help night after night. Soon Justin begins a journey that will change his life forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A very old story from the very first fandom I ever wrote in. I'm still very fond of it and hope you will be too

Justin slowly opened his eyes and looked around in amazement. He had never before seen anything so completely void of color in his entire life. The inky blackness that surrounded him seemed endless, as if he were in a vast cavern had never seen the sun.

He turned around in a 360 degree circle, searching for any openings, any breaks in the darkness…anything that might indicate where he was, but he found none.

He realized that he should probably be frightened of this strange place, but all he could feel was a deep sense of curiosity and a small touch of amusement.

Shrugging his shoulders at the thought, he decided to try to satisfy his curiosity and explore. He began to walk forward, hesitantly at first, then more confidently after encountering no obstacles in his path.

He moved through this midnight land for awhile, content to just walk at this easy pace, when something in front of him caught his attention. From this distance he could tell that what he seeing was a man sitting in a chair, but he was too far away to determine anything else except that the man was not moving at all.

His curiosity propelled him to move forward and he quickened his pace. He found it strange that he still felt no fear but he didn’t bother to question why not.

He was about ten feet away from reaching the man when his legs suddenly stopped moving. He looked down in surprise and found no reason as to why his legs would not be working. He struggled with them, trying to force them to move, but they would not follow his commands. He grunted in frustration at the development and then looked up. He realized that he was as close as he was going to get to the mystery man.

The man did not acknowledge Justin’s presence. He didn’t even seem to be aware that Justin was there. He sat motionless in the chair, his eyes staring at a faraway point just slightly to Justin’s left, his face devoid of any emotion.

For a brief moment, Justin wondered if he were looking at a statue instead of a real man, so still was he, and he felt a shiver sneak up his spine at the thought. Then he saw the man inhale and that illusion was thankfully shattered.

Justin took advantage of the man’s stillness to quickly study him. Despite not appearing real, the man was undeniably handsome. He was tall and thin and dressed all in white. His eyes were an icy blue, his cheekbones high, his chin strong. His lips, slightly full, looked tender and inviting. His light brown hair was somewhat long and shaggy and Justin found himself wanting to touch it, to see if it was as soft as it looked.

Justin was about to say something when the man suddenly turned his head towards him. Justin tensed, not knowing what to expect from the man. Just because he was good-looking didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous or deranged in some way.

"Justin, can you hear me crying?"

"What?" Justin whispered in confusion as his body again relaxed. The man had spoken to him, but his question had made no sense at all. Maybe he hadn’t heard correctly?

The man did not answer. Instead he dropped his head into his hands and leaned forward, his body trembling ever so slightly.

Justin waited, unsure of what to say or do.

After a few long moments, the man’s hands fell away from his face and his head shot back up, his eyes fixing on Justin. Justin gasped and tried to step away at the sight that now greeted him, but he could no easier move back then forward.

Dark tears of blood were steadily leaking from the corners of the man’s eyes.

The teardrops slid down his face and landed on his shirt, leaving red trails of gore wherever they touched.

"Can you hear me crying?" he asked again, and suddenly the blue eyes were shimmering with a sadness so intense that Justin felt it stabbing into his own heart.

Justin reached forward…he had to touch this man…he had to reach him…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Justin shot up in bed, wide-eyed and panting for breath, a scream caught in his throat. He sat there for a few seconds as he tried to get his breathing under control, then he reached over to his left and turned on his bedside lamp.

"Just a dream. A really fucked up dream, but just a dream," he whispered to himself as he looked around his very familiar room and tried to get his bearings.

He lay back down on the bed with a sigh as he rubbed his forehead. He hadn’t woken up like that from a dream in a long time, but this dream had just seemed so damn real. That guy, crying tears of blood, his sad eyes…he could still remember the sound of his voice; so soft.

He didn’t bother to turn the light back off. He had to be up in two hours anyway, and he knew he wasn’t getting any more sleep tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

"Justin…Justin…"

Justin groaned and tried to ignore the voice that kept calling out his name. He fuzzily wondered why the voice was being so insistent. Didn’t it know that he was exhausted?

"Justin, damn it, get your ass up!"

Great. Now the voice was yelling at him and he was being shaken. Knowing that the voice was not going to give up anytime soon, Justin forced his eyes to open. "I’m up. I’m up," he said groggily as he looked into the green eyes of his roommate Lance.

"Well, it’s about damn time! Did you know that your alarm’s been going off for the past twenty minutes?" Lance asked in frustration.

Justin pushed himself up on his elbows. "I don’t hear anything," he said as he yawned.

"That’s because I finally got sick of hearing it and came in here and turned it off. And like the wonderful friend that I am, I decided to wake you up."

"If you’re such a good friend, why didn’t you let me sleep?" Justin asked.

"Because you have an exam in your Modern American Lit class, remember?"

Suddenly Justin became much more alert. He sat up in bed and quickly swung his feet over the side, barely missing kicking Lance in the process. "Oh shit, you’re right!" He turned towards Lance. "Oh man I owe you. I owe you big."

Lance stood and made a dismissive gesture with his hand to indicate that nothing was owed. "So what happened? Stay up too late studying?"

Justin rubbed a hand over his face and groaned again. "No…I…I had this really weird nightmare," Justin said slowly as crystal clear images from the dream flashed through his mind. "Couldn’t go back to sleep for a long time."

"A nightmare huh? Must have been a bad one if it kept you up," Lance said as he began to walk towards the door.

"It was…different," Justin said softly.

"Well, listen, you can tell me about it later. Right now I gotta go to work. And if I’m late because of you, I’m gonna kick your ass," he said as he disappeared through the doorway.

Justin ignored his friend’s threat and turned toward his alarm clock. He had twenty minutes to get dressed and get over to the university. He could make it but it would mean forgoing a shower and driving like a bat out of hell.

‘Why do I get the feeling that today’s gonna be a shitty day?’ he asked himself as he stood up and prepared to move as quickly as he ever had in his life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later…

Justin opened the door to his apartment and, locking it behind him, made a beeline for the couch. Not until he was seated comfortably, had his shoes off and the remote control for the tv in his hand, did he even acknowledge his roommate.

"Hey Lance," he said wearily.

"Hey," Lance said cheerily as he wandered around the kitchen opening cupboards. Much too cheerily for Justin’s liking.

Just as he had predicted earlier in the morning, the day had been a complete disaster. The English Lit exam had been hard as hell, he’d practically fallen asleep in his classes and to top it all off, he had spilled spaghetti all over a customer at the restaurant where he worked as a waiter.

Lance picked up on Justin’s mood immediately. "Bad day?" he asked.

"Understatement of the year," Justin replied as he turned on the tv and began to channel surf.

Lance chuckled. "Well, I know what will cheer you up," he said.

"What?"

"I’m cooking tonight," Lance announced.

"Oh no, don’t tell me we’re going to have grits and fried chicken again," Justin said with a smile.

"Don’t you go making fun of southern food. At least it’s better than that crap you Californians eat. I mean, why do guys feel the need to put avocado in everything?"

"And why do you guys feel the need to deep fry everything?" Justin retorted with another smile.

"Why do you feel the need to eat bean sprouts?"

"Why do you feel the need to eat pig’s feet?"

"All right, truce!" Lance yelled as he held up his hands. "If we don’t stop now, someone’s going to say something they’re gonna regret later."

Justin laughed and said, "Sorry, sorry. Truce."

The two men fell silent as Lance continued working on making dinner and Justin flipped through the channels on the television set. It was a comfortable silence, one that came from almost three years of solid friendship.

When they first met, Justin was entering UCLA as a confused freshman and Lance was plugging away as a junior pre-med student. They had literally bumped into each other one day in the library and soon found a great friendship growing despite all their differences. They got along so well that they decided to get an apartment together on a trial basis. Now, two and a half years later, Justin was a junior majoring in English while Lance was a first year medical student. They both worked part-time jobs and continued to share an apartment. And they both considered the other their best friend.

Lance was the first to break the silence. "So, you gonna tell me about the dream?" he asked.

Justin tensed at the mention of it. "I guess…" he said.

"Well, if you don’t want to…" Lance began.

Justin turned the tv off and looked at Lance for the first time since coming home. "Promise you won’t laugh."

"Do I ever laugh at you when you’re being serious?" Lance asked.

"All the damn time," Justin answered.

Lance considered that for a moment and then said, "I promise I won’t laugh." Then he gestured with his hand to indicate that Justin should begin. Justin let a small smile flit across his face at the sight. Lance could say more with his hands than some people could with the entire English language at their disposal. It had taken awhile for Justin to understand what all the mannerisms meant, but now he felt proud that he had mastered what he liked to refer to as "Lance language."

"I was in this really dark place…" Justin began.

"Like a room?" Lance asked.

"No, it was bigger than that. It was really huge. And it was dark all around me but not right in front of me. I could see just fine."

Lance made the gesture that meant Justin should continue.

"I started walking and after awhile I see this guy sitting in a chair. He’s kind of far away, so I started walking faster so that I could see him." Justin paused to collect his thoughts, then continued. "Anyway, I get really close to him when all of a sudden, my legs don’t work. I couldn’t walk anymore. So, I look at the guy and he’s just kind of staring off into space, real weird look on his face. Then he turns towards me and he says, "Can you hear me crying?"

Lance made a noise of interest but otherwise kept quiet.

Justin continued. "So, I’m still just kind of looking at him, cause I have no idea what to say, when he looks down and starts to shake. Then he looks back up and, this is the really weird part, now he’s crying tears of blood. And again he says, "Can you hear me crying?".

"Then what?" Lance asked.

Justin shrugged. "That’s it. Then I woke up."

Lance exhaled noisily. "That is some pretty weird shit."

"Tell me something I don’t know," Justin said.

"You know, that sounds like something from a movie. Maybe you saw that in a horror movie and it got stuck in your head," Lance said.

"Maybe," Justin said although he was pretty sure he had never seen something like that in any movie.

"Well listen, dinner’s gonna be ready in about fifteen minutes."

Justin stood up and stretched. "Gives me time for a shower." He walked to his bedroom and stopped at the doorway. "So what is for dinner anyway?" he asked.

Lance smirked at him before answering. "Grits and fried chicken."

"Asshole," Justin called out loudly as he walked into the bedroom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Justin opened his eyes and found himself in the same dream landscape from the night before. He groaned and tried to make himself wake up, something that he was usually able to do easily success, then groaned even louder when he found that it wasn’t working.

He was stuck in the dream.

He began to walk forward despite the fact that he really didn’t want to. He realized glumly that he was not in control here but that he was at the mercy of the dream. Just like the previous night, he saw the man sitting in the chair after he had been walking for awhile and he sped up his pace to reach him. Once he was within ten feet of him, his legs refused to move and he found himself looking down at the man.

The man looked at him, his blue eyes almost shining in the darkness, and asked, "Can you hear me crying?"

"What do you mean?" Justin asked.

He was hoping for an answer to his question, but instead the man covered his face with his hands and bent down. Justin watched as his thin body trembled in the chair. He knew what would come next.

Just as expected, the man raised his head and stared at Justin. Tears of blood were again streaming down his face, turning his face into a mask of horror.

"Justin. Can you hear me crying?" he asked plaintively, his eyes deep pools of sadness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Justin woke up quickly and instantly reached for his bedside lamp. Once the light was on, he sat up in bed and wrapped the covers tight around his body. He brought a hand up to his chest and realized that he was panting heavily.

Two nights in a row with the same disturbing dream. Two nights in a row having to look into that man’s eyes as he asked his cryptic question. Two nights of lost sleep that he could not afford to lose.

He lay back down on the bed and curled up on his side, his blankets now acting as a cocoon around his body. He looked at the lamp and for a minute he entertained the thought of leaving it on all night, then instantly berated himself for the thought.

‘Don’t be such a wuss,’ he told himself as he turned off the light and closed his eyes. ‘It was just a dream. There’s nothing to it.’

Now if he could just make himself believe that…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Across the concrete vastness that is Los Angeles, a man opens the back of his van and shines a flashlight into its depths.

He inhales deeply as the light illuminates his latest acquisition. It is so beautiful, even if it is covered in the grime that comes from living on the streets. Its face is peaceful now, courtesy of the chloroform that was used to make it sleep. The gag around its mouth covers its pretty lips and the man wants nothing more than to take it off and taste those lips but he forces himself to wait. He must wait until he gets his acquisition into the house. Then it will be safe to remove the gag. Then it will be safe to do anything he wants.

The man leans down and easily picks up the bound body from the van. It moans softly but does not wake. As the man walks up to his front door with his cargo in his arms, his heart swells with anticipation and excitement.

Tonight a new game will begin.


	3. Chapter 3

Another dream.

Another dream where Justin found himself walking through the darkness, knowing exactly what his destination would be and what he would find there. Justin sighed as he continued down the now-familiar dark path. He stopped only when he was in front of the man in the chair and his legs would no longer move.

As he looked down at the man seated before him, he was struck by how truly beautiful he was. Beautiful, yet much too thin and much too pale. He looked almost ill, as if he didn’t take good care of himself. Was he sick?

Justin’s train of thought was interrupted when the man turned his eyes toward him and spoke.

"Justin, can you hear me crying?"

Justin chose not to say anything. He merely looked into the man’s light blue eyes and waited.

As expected, the man bent down and covered his face with his hands. When he straightened and dropped his hands a moment later, bloody tears were slowly falling from his eyes and making their way down his face, staining it crimson as they traveled its length.

"Can you hear me crying?" the man asked again.

Justin was about to tell the man that he didn’t understand what he meant, when he noticed something strange. His mouth gaped open as he stared.

There was now a small trickle of blood making its way out of the man’s left ear. As Justin watched in both fascination and disgust, the trickle steadily increased until blood was liberally streaming out of the man’s ear. Justin turned his attention to the man’s right ear and saw that the same thing was happening there.

There was so much blood now that it was literally running down the side of the man’s neck and soaking his previously white shirt. And yet despite all the blood, the man appeared to be in no physical pain. He merely continued to stare at Justin with his wounded eyes while the life poured out of his body.

Justin could no longer watch the sight before him without at least trying to do something. He found himself desperately trying to reach the man. He had to stop the bleeding. He had to help him. He leaned forward as far as he could and stretched out his arm. If only he could touch him. He willed his fingers to reach even further. He was so close, just a little more…he was so close…

Justin woke with a start, his eyes opening wide and focusing on the dark ceiling above him. He did not bother to turn on the light this time. He had not woken up afraid. He had not woken up with his heart pounding and his breathing heavy and labored.

He had woken up with a deep sense of worry and dread and he knew it had to do with the change in the dream. As he lay still in the dark, he found himself wondering what the hell the change could mean.

He shuddered as the memory of all that blood flashed before him.

He could have helped him.

If only he had reached him…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Is everything all right? Is there anything else you need?" Justin asked pleasantly.

"No, everything’s great. Thank you," the man sitting at the table answered. The woman next to him just smiled and nodded, her mouth too full of linguini to do anything else.

Justin smiled. "Wonderful," he said as he turned and walked away. He allowed the fake "please let me serve you" smile to disappear from his face as he headed toward the kitchen to check on his next order.

God, he was so tired. He felt like he could fall asleep standing up. All he wanted to do was lie down in bed and crash but he still had three more hours left on his shift. Three more long hours. He wasn’t sure if he was going to make it.

He was mere feet away from the kitchen when he noticed something familiar out of the corner of his eye. He stopped and turned his head to get a better look. Time froze for him when he realized what had attracted his attention. Suddenly Justin was wide-awake.

Walking out the door, his arm casually around a woman’s waist, was the man from his dream. The man’s back was turned to Justin, so he couldn’t see his face, but Justin knew that it was him. He had the same tall, thin build. He had the same hair. A little shaggy, a little too long, light brown in color and cut through with streaks of blond.

It was him

And he was leaving.

The man was almost to the exit when Justin came to life. He called out, "Hey," as he ran towards the man. He caught up to him quickly and, putting a hand on his shoulder swung him around with a force that he had not intended to use.

"You’re…" Justin began, then dropped his hand and backed away once he actually got a look at the man’s face.

It was not the man from the dream.

In fact this man’s face looked nothing like the one that he was now used to seeing in his dreams. The man’s dark brown eyes looked at him with surprise and suspicion. "Yes?" the man asked as he struggled to keep his tone polite.

"I…ummm…nothing. I’m sorry," Justin stuttered. He sensed that people were staring at him and he blushed with embarrassment.

"Are we free to go?" the man asked with a hint of bemusement in his tone. The woman was staring at Justin as if he were a dangerous criminal.

Was it possible to die from embarrassment? "Yes…I’m really sorry, sir. I thought you were someone else. I’m sorry," he said meekly.

"It’s all right," the man said as he nodded slightly. He tightened his grip on the woman’s waist and ushered her out the door. Justin watched them disappear into the night while he mentally kicked himself for being such a moron.

An instant later, he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He turned around and was not surprised to see the owner of the restaurant, Mr. Marconi, staring at him.

"Let’s go talk in the back, ok Justin?" whispered Mr. Marconi.

Justin hung his head and followed Mr. Marconi to the kitchen. He began to fervently wish that the earth would open up and swallow him whole. When it didn’t happen, he decided to apologize for all he was worth and hope Mr. Marconi was as nice as he seemed.

"Look Mr. Marconi, I’m really sorry. I thought he was somebody else and…I…" Justin’s voice faded away as he realized that he had no logical explanation for what he had done.

"Justin, why don’t you tell me what’s going on with you," Mr. Marconi said.

"What do you mean?"

"Look at you. You look like you’re ready to pass out. You’ve been slow, you’ve been getting the orders wrong, you’re barely smiling…what’s going on?"

Justin looked down at the ground. "I haven’t been sleeping well. I know that it’s affecting my job, but I’m not going to let it anymore, I promise."

Mr. Marconi sighed and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Justin, I want you to go home. Don’t worry about finishing out your shift."

Justin’s head shot up, a worried look in his eyes. "What? No, I’m ok. You don’t have to send me home."

"Justin, this isn’t a punishment. I’m sending you home because I think you need to get some rest. Take care of yourself."

"But…" Justin began.

"No buts. Justin, you’re my best waiter. The customers love you, the cooks love you - hell even I love you…"

Justin smiled weakly at the unexpected praise.

"But you’re not doing me any good like this. I’d rather you go home, get some rest, and come back better tomorrow. So go. And this is not a punishment, understand?"

Justin glumly nodded his head. "Yes, Mr. Marconi."

Justin watched his boss turn around and walk back through the kitchen doors. He then slapped his forehead with his open palm.

"Justin, you are such a fucking loser," he whispered to himself angrily.

He looked around as he pondered how he was going to leave the restaurant and be seen by as few people as possible. He had had his fill of humiliation for one evening.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Justin opened the front door of his apartment and immediately shut his eyes. "Oops!"

On the couch, Lance and his girlfriend Stacy pulled apart, both of them quickly rearranging clothes and hair.

"Sorry…sorry…I didn’t see anything, I swear." Justin said as he closed the door with one hand and put the other hand over his eyes.

"Justin, you’re home EARLY," Lance said as he straightened, letting a hint of frustration crawl into his voice.

"I know…I would have called you on my cell but it was dead. Sorry," Justin said as he blindly made his way over to his bedroom. "I’ll be in my room…you guys just continue doing…whatever."

"Justin, we’re decent. You can look," Stacy said with a laugh.

Justin took his hand away from his eyes and opened them. "Hey," he said mildly.

"Justin, you ok? You don’t look like you feel good," Stacy said.

"Just exhausted, that’s all. I’m gonna crash, so you guys don’t worry about me. Really," he said as he walked into his bedroom and closed the door behind him.

Lance watched Justin go, then turned to Stacy and kissed her neck lightly. "Let’s go to my room, huh?"

Stacy pushed him away and shook her head. "No."

"No?" Lance asked, obviously confused.

"No, go check on Justin first."

"Oh he’s fine," Lance said as he leaned in towards her.

Stacy pushed him away with a smile. "Go. Now. Be a good friend. I’ll still be here when you come back out."

Lance sighed. He knew he wasn’t winning this one. He resigned himself to having to go check on Justin because his girlfriend was overreacting and was in "mother hen" mode.

Lance knocked on the Justin’s door and waited. A second later he heard Justin’s muffled "come in", and he opened the door and entered, carefully closing the door behind him.

Justin lay on the bed, still in his clothes from work. His eyes were red-rimmed and he had heavy dark circles under them. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a week.

"Wow, Stacy was right. You look like shit," Lance said as he walked over and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Thanks," Justin said miserably.

"No, really."

Justin propped himself up on his elbows. "What are you doing in here, trying to make me feel worse?" he asked.

Lance chuckled. "Stacy made me come in. She told me to be a good friend."

"Tell Stacy I said she’s too good for you," Justin said as he plopped back down on the bed.

"Oh she already knows that. So, what’s going on? Why are you home so early?"

"My boss sent me home. I…ummm..kind of messed up at work."

"Ouch. What happened?"

"Don’t want to talk about it."

"Ok. Did you get fired?"

Justin snorted. "No."

"What’s going on, Justin?" Lance asked as he turned completely serious.

Justin hesitated only a brief second before answering. "I’m still having that dream about the guy bleeding. After I have it I have a really hard time getting to sleep."

"Oh, I’m sorry," was all Lance could think of to say. He wanted to say more, but he was at a loss as to what advice to give about recurring dreams.

"Lance, do you believe in supernatural things?" Justin asked unexpectedly.

"Do I…? Like what? Like ghosts and stuff?" asked Lance, surprised at what he saw as a huge shift in the conversation.

"Like people communicating through telepathy. Through dreams." When Lance remained silent, a doubtful expression on his face, Justin continued. "I know this sounds kind of crazy, but I’m starting to wonder if this dream isn’t some sort of message."

"Justin…" Lance began uncertainly.

Justin ignored him. "Maybe this guy is trying to tell me something." Justin’s voice became quiet and thoughtful as he stared past Lance. "He’s bleeding in the dream, maybe he needs some sort of help."

Lance put his hands up in the air. "And maybe you’re thinking way too much. Maybe you saw this guy somewhere, thought he was cute and decided to put him in your dream. And maybe your dreams are whacked because you’re under stress from both your classes and your job."

Justin’s eyes focused on Lance. He laughed self-consciously. "Oh man, did I just sound like a total head-case or what?"

Lance skirted around the question as gracefully as he could - by completely ignoring it. "Look, why don’t you come hang out with me and Stacy? We’ll rent a movie or something. A comedy. One that requires no thinking of any kind," Lance suggested.

"No, you guys enjoy your time. I’m just going to go to bed."

"You sure?"

"I’m sure. Go. Have fun."

Lance leaned over and ruffled Justin’s short curly hair. "Call me if you need me, ok buddy? I know I’m not being very helpful here, but…"

"Thanks, Lance," Justin interrupted. "I will."

Justin watched his friend give him a quick, reassuring nod and then walk out the door.

"I wonder how much sleep I’ll get before I see him again?" Justin asked himself aloud.

As he pushed himself off the bed and staggered to the bathroom, he found himself wondering why a very small part of him was suddenly now looking forward to seeing him again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The man’s eyes nearly gleam with excitement as he looks down at his latest acquisition.

He loves this.

He loves seeing it open its eyes and take in its surroundings for the first time. He loves watching it struggle against the ropes that loop tightly around its wrists. He loves the way it pleads and begs.

It is begging now. It is begging the man to be set free. It is already begging for mercy.

Its blue eyes grow wide with terror when the man pulls his belt from around his waist and snaps it in the air threateningly.

He does not bother to speak to it. It does not need to know why it’s here or what he intends to do.

"Please don’t…" it whispers. The voice is so choked with fear that it is barely audible.

The man lifts his arm up in the air and brings it down quickly. The sound of leather hitting flesh is deafening, as is the sound of the scream it emits. The man watches as it reacts to the pain and he is pleased with what he sees.

He hits again and again, each time savoring the screams that are coming from its delicate throat.

As the night wears on, the screams become more and more frantic until finally they disappear altogether. By the time the morning comes, the man has fallen into an exhausted, sated slumber while his beautiful acquisition cries in pain.


	4. Chapter 4

Two nights later…

As soon as Justin found himself in the familiar dark space he began to run. He wanted to waste no time in getting to the man that had haunted his dreams for the past five nights. He needed to see what tonight would hold for both him and the mysterious dream figure.

He ran until he was in front of the man; instinctively stopping at the edge of the invisible barrier between them. He watched the handsome young man go through his ritual while he nervously clenched and unclenched his fists and waited for the right time to speak to him.

He waited until the man had asked his strange question for the second time and the blood began to flow from his body freely. Then, before the dream could end, Justin reached forward and said, "I can hear you and I want to help you."

The man just looked at him, giving no indication that he had heard him. The blood slid down his body and dripped silently into the darkness.

"Tell me how to help you," Justin pleaded.

Again, the only answer he received was silence. Feeling frustrated, Justin was about to try again when he saw a large tear appear in the man’s right shirtsleeve. The fabric looked to have been cleanly sliced open by something sharp, but Justin could see no weapons anywhere. He watched in amazement as blood welled up from the tear and began to run down the man’s arm.

Taking a closer look, Justin could see that the man’s skin had been sliced open as well as his shirt. He yelled, "Shit!" and lunged forward, only to have his traitorous dream legs defy him. He ended up falling heavily to his hands and knees. He brought his head up quickly and saw to his horror that the slices were now appearing all over the man’s body. Justin felt himself grow dizzy with nausea at the sight. He had anticipated that the dream would be worse this time, but he had no idea how bad it would be or how difficult it would be to watch.

The phantom weapon brutally slashed at the man’s arms, legs and torso, gaining momentum as the assault continued. And through all this the man sat in silence, seemingly oblivious to both Justin and to the damage being done to his body.

Justin watched helplessly as the bloody scene played out before him. He had never seen anything like this in his life, either awake or asleep. He wanted to shut his eyes against it, but he forced that instinct down and instead thrust out his arm and held out his hand. "I want to help you," he said, and only when he felt his voice crack did he come to realize that he was crying.

"Can you hear me crying?" the man asked again.

"Yes, God yes, but I don’t know how to help you. Tell me…tell me something…anything… Tell me who you are. Tell me how I can help you."

The man’s eyes seemed to focus slightly at Justin’s last words. Feeling encouraged, Justin whispered, "Who are you?"

The man’s mouth opened slowly and Justin was struck at just how red his lips were.

Stained red by his own blood.

"Who…" Justin began again.

"Joshua," the man whispered before Justin could finish his question. "Joshua…"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Justin practically leaped out of his bed with excitement. He ran to the small desk in the corner of his room and turned on the reading lamp that sat on it. Once he could see again, he grabbed one of his notebooks and flipped it open to a blank page then he picked up a stray pen and held it to the paper.

The pen almost fell from his trembling fingers, but he managed to tighten his hold on it long enough to write on the paper. After he was done he dropped the notebook on the desk and stared down at what he had written.

Joshua.

The man’s name.

The mystery man was no longer a complete mystery.

He had a name now.

For the first time since the dreams began, Justin felt some measure of control and he clutched at it like a drowning man clutches at a life preserver. As he continued to stare at the hastily written name, his mind began to ponder what would come next.

He felt as if he had taken his first step into a complex and winding labyrinth where there were no guides to show him the way out.

He sat down at the desk and began to think out what his next move would be.

So deep in thought was he that he didn’t even realize that he was mouthing the name Joshua over and over.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next night…

Justin looked up at the clock on the wall, then over at the front door. Then he chastised himself for being so impatient and forced himself to read the textbook in front of him.

Five minutes later, he looked up from the textbook that he wasn’t really reading and again checked the clock and the door.

Damn it, where the hell was he? Lance was never late. Never. And now the one time he desperately needed him to be on time, he wasn’t.

Justin sighed in frustration and mentally went through Lance’s Sunday night schedule. On Sundays Lance got out of work at seven and he always came straight home so that he could either relax or study. He hardly ever deviated from this plan and if he did he would always call first to let Justin know. It was now 7:40. So where the fuck was Lance?

A familiar creak stole Justin’s attention away from his thoughts. He threw his book aside carelessly and jumped up. Running to the door, he flung it wide open and found himself face to face with a very astonished looking Lance.

"Shit, you scared me!" Lance cried as he held a hand to his chest.

"Well, it’s about time. Where the hell have you been?" Justin asked as he stepped back from the apartment’s threshold and gave Lance room to enter.

Lance walked past him and tossed his ever-present book-bag on the couch. "Funny thing; I could have sworn I left my mother in Mississippi," he said as he gave Justin a sharp look.

Justin shut the door and walked over to him. "Oh very funny. Ha ha. I was expecting you ten minutes ago, you know."

Lance gave him one of his famous gestures; the one that closely translated into ‘what the fuck’s your problem?’ "I got stuck in traffic," he said calmly.

"Well, I’ve been waiting for you."

"Why, what do you want that’s so important?" he said as he collapsed on the couch.

Justin stood over him, the excitement that had kept him awake and jumpy all day still evident in his movements. He paused a second to catch his breath and then clasped his hands together in front of his chest. "I know his name, Lance."

Lance nodded sagely, then stopped and shook his head rapidly. "Whose name Justin?"

"The guy in the dream. He told me his name."

"Oh. So what was it?" Lance asked.

"His name is Joshua."

Lance looked at his friend for a moment and took in the shine in his eyes and the flushed tone of his skin. He seemed edgy and excited at the same time; like he was ready to jump out of his skin. "And you’ve been waiting for me to come home so you could tell me that?"

Justin heaved a huge sigh of frustration and dropped his hands to his sides. "Don’t you get it? Now I have a name for this guy. This is the first step to finding out who he is."

"Wait a minute. Are you telling me that you still think this is some kind of telepathic communication? That someone’s trying to send you a message?" Justin’s silence answered the question for him and he continued. "Justin, I’m not trying to be an asshole, but come one – that kind of stuff is impossible."

A shadow of anger flitted across Justin’s face before being replaced by the earnest, excited look again. "Look, I’m not going to try and convince you different…especially not since I need a favor from you."

Lance’s head flopped back on the couch. "Oh man. Why do I have a feeling that I’m not going to like this?"

Justin pressed on, undaunted by Lance’s remark. "I need you to call your friend Jenna and ask her come over as soon as possible."

"Jenna?" Lance asked in confusion.

"Yeah, you know…the red-head. The art major."

"I know who she is, but why do you need to talk to her?"

Justin thought about telling Lance his reason for wanting to talk to the girl, but he quickly decided against it. In actuality, he was surprised that Lance hadn’t figured it out himself. He chalked it up to Lance’s apparent exhaustion. Lance didn’t think well when he was tired. "Just, please do it for me, ok? I promise I’m not up to anything evil." Justin concentrated and gave his roommate his best wounded puppy dog look. No one had ever been able to resist it; not even Lance.

"Oh fine! But this is two that you owe me Justin. Two! Don’t think I’m not keeping track, cause I am," Lance said. "I’ll call her in the morning."

"Can’t you call her now?" Justin asked.

"Now?"

"I’ll love you forever," Justin said, still flashing his puppy dog eyes.

"Stacy loving me forever is incentive. You loving me forever is my worst nightmare."

"Please Lance," he begged. This time he flashed the wounded eyes and gave a small pout. The reaction was instantaneous.

"Ah fuck, give me the phone, " Lance grumbled.

Justin smiled and walked over to pick up the phone. He then walked it over to Lance, who gave him the evil eye every step of the way. "Thank you, thank you," Justin said as Lance dialed.

Lance waved him away and Justin sat down on the opposite end of the couch. He listened to his friend’s half of the conversation with interest.

{"Hey, Jenna."}

{"Did I catch you at a bad time?"}

{"Good. I’m good, thanks. I have a favor to ask you though."}

{"You know my roommate Justin?"}

{"Yes, the gay one."}

{"Yes, he’s still gay. Well, he wants to know if you can come over for awhile tomorrow. He needs to talk to you. It’d be a big favor to both me and him."}

{"Yeah."}

Lance held the phone away from his ear and covered the mouthpiece with his hand. "Is four in the afternoon ok with you?" he asked Justin.

Justin smiled and nodded enthusiastically. Lance nodded back and returned to the conversation.

{"That’d be great Jenna. Appreciate it."}

{"Ok, see you then."}

Lance hung up the phone and looked at Justin. "Ok, she’ll be here tomorrow."

"Thank you so much, Lance," Justin said sincerely.

"You’re welcome," he said as he stood. "I’m going to go in my room and study. You’re making dinner tonight right?"

"Yes. And it’s going to the best dinner you ever had."

"Not unless it’s grits and fried chicken," Lance called out as he covered the distance to his room in a few quick strides and disappeared into its doorway.

Justin stood up and made his way to the kitchen. As he opened the refrigerator he was dismayed to see that his hands were shaking slightly.

The phone call to Jenna should have made him feel better but instead he felt worse. Suddenly jittery and nervous, he could almost feel his earlier excitement slipping away from him. He stood in the middle of the kitchen, trying to figure out why his emotions had shifted, when it hit him – despite the steps he was taking, he felt as if he were somehow quickly running out of time.

‘No, not me,’ he amended. ‘I’m not running out of time. Joshua is.’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The man has waited patiently all day for the sun to fall and now that it has he can barely contain his excitement. He takes the steps to the basement as quickly as he can, then stops abruptly when he gets to the bottom. He sees it, cowering in the corner, trying to make its body small.

The man’s breathing becomes heavy and erratic as he steps closer and closer to it. He forces himself to move slowly now; knowing that its fear doubles every time his heels hit the ground.

Soon he is directly in front of it. It looks up at him as he looks down at it. Such misery in that pretty face. The man becomes instantly hard and he runs a hand over his denim-covered crotch in anticipation. This elicits a frightened whimper from it and he smiles.

He leans forward and grasps it by the hair, forcing it to look up at the ceiling. The tears are already running down its bruised face. Impulsively he kisses one away and laughs when it shudders and tries to pull away from him.

With one hand, he grabs a nearby rope and lets it dangle in front of its eyes. He wants to hear it beg.

It does not disappoint.

"Please don’t…" it begs as it sobs. It is crying so hard that it cannot even finish the sentence. The man lets go of its hair and, using both his hands, brings the rope around its neck.

The man positions their bodies so that they are both facing the full-length mirror on the nearest wall. He wants it to see. The man then tightens the rope viciously, cutting off its air supply. It struggles, its bound hands clenching into useless fists. The gasping noises coming from its mouth send tingles down the man’s spine. The man chokes it for awhile and then releases the rope. He watches as it desperately takes in huge gulps of air. Then he tightens the rope again.

Releases it.

Tightens it.

All the while watching it watch itself in the mirror. Watching the terror in its pretty blue eyes.

This goes on for hours, until the man is too tired to continue. Then he lies on its body and jerks himself off while it softly cries. He watches his warm come splatter on its bare back with great delight, then he falls into a blissful sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Justin sat on the couch in his living room and stared at the tv set in front of him. It was turned on and, although comedic images danced and flickered across its screen, Justin saw and heard none of it. All he could see was Joshua’s face; beautiful despite its impassivity, and all he could hear were the echoes of Joshua’s soft voice.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, where more mundane and realistic concerns dwelt, he thought about the fact that he was missing work with a twinge of guilt. But it was merely a twinge, and it was quickly overridden by thoughts of the man with the pale blue eyes who visited him nightly in dreams. He had suspected he was doing the right thing when he had asked Lance for Jenna’s number, but after last night’s dream, he had known.

After last night’s dream he knew that he could no longer stand by and watch passively as the dreams’ message unfolded. He knew there were things he had to do.

He absentmindedly reached for the remote and was about to change the channel when he heard a soft knock at the door. He jumped up as if a fire had been lit underneath him and ran to the door; opening it without even checking to see who it was. He could barely contain his excitement when he saw that it was Jenna, the woman he’d been waiting all day for.

"Hey Jenna," he said with a broad smile that was more than a little forced.

"Hi Justin," she said as she returned the smile.

He stepped aside and tried to ignore the fact that she was ogling him as usual. "Come on in," he said pleasantly. "Oh, and, thanks for coming on such short notice. I really appreciate it."

"No problem at all. Anything for you," she said as she slipped past him and waited patiently.

Justin rolled his eyes at the door then turned around to face her. "We can sit on the couch," he said as he gestured towards it.

She nodded and followed his lead over to the couch. Justin waited until they were both seated and comfortable before he began to speak. "Jenna, I asked you over because I need a favor."

"Ok," she said as she slowly nodded.

"I need you to sketch someone for me."

"Ok," she said again as her eyes narrowed slightly. "Who is it and for what?" Of all the things she had been expecting, this was not one of them.

"Well, it’s kind of hard to explain, but it’s really important that I get a likeness of this guy. Really important."

"Well…" she began uneasily.

Justin could tell she was probably going to say yes but that she would want to know what it was for. He decided that he really didn’t want to have to try to explain the strange circumstances surrounding the request so instead he put on his best smile and leaned in towards her. He would try a diversionary tactic.

"I don’t expect you to do it for nothing Jenna."

"Oh, you don’t have to pay me," she said.

He let his smile soften while his voice grew huskier. "I was thinking more along the lines of a nice dinner, then maybe a movie. Or we could go dancing…whatever you want."

"Well…that does sound nice," she said as she also leaned forward. "When do you want to do it?"

Inwardly he was cheering from the rooftops. Outwardly he straightened with a grateful grin. "Now."

Surprise crept onto her features. "Now? But I don’t have my sketchpad with me. I don’t have my pencils…"

Justin leaned forward and picked up the art supplies he had bought today at the art store. "I don’t know if I got all the right stuff, but it doesn’t have to be professional quality or anything."

Jenna continued to look at him in surprise. "Are you always this well prepared?"

Justin just shrugged, then looked down at the materials in his hands. "Will this stuff work?"

She nodded, then took everything from him and studied it. "Yeah, it’ll work just fine."

The next half-hour passed quickly, with Jenna trying her best to work with only Justin’s descriptions to guide her in her sketching. After what seemed forever to Justin, she finally stopped and showed him the results of her efforts. "How’s that?"

Justin looked at the drawing critically and shook his head. "No, the eyes need to be a little farther apart. And his bottom lip is fuller than that."

"Ok," was all Jenna said before she took the sketchpad back and began to make the changes. Two minutes later she showed Justin the sketchpad again. "Well?" she asked.

This time, Justin’s eyes widened at what he saw before him. Jenna had managed to take his words and turn them into a likeness so perfect that it was chilling. She had literally re-created Joshua on paper. "It’s perfect Jenna," he said in an awe-filled voice. "I mean, that’s exactly what he looks like." He stared up at her then wrapped her in a tight embrace. "God, you are amazing, " he said as he pulled away.

Jenna looked back down at her work and smiled with pride. "Thanks Justin." After a moment she looked back up. "He’s cute, whoever he is. "

"Don’t I know it," Justin said as he took the pad from her and stared at it in wonderment. His fingertips reverently traced the lines that made up Joshua’s face. He had not expected it to come out this perfectly. He couldn’t wait to take it around and ask…

A soft touch on his knee interrupted his thoughts and he looked up to see Jenna leaning towards the tv set with obvious interest. "Do you mind if we turn this up, Justin?" she asked without taking her eyes off the screen.

"No, no problem," he said as he reached for the remote control and quickly brought the volume back up. He too looked at the tv set, wondering what had grabbed Jenna’s attention the way it had.

"They found another body," she whispered in explanation before they both turned their attention to the news flash on the screen.

For the next minute they listened as a local reporter informed them about the latest victim of a serial killer that was terrorizing the city. The victim had been a 21-year-old male prostitute. The reporter reminded them that the killer’s five previous victims had also been young male prostitutes. The reporter would not give out many details as to the cause of death, but it was well known in the city that all the victims had been tortured for several days before finally having their throats slashed. The reporter then told them that there were still no new leads in the case and asked that if anyone had any information to please contact the police department.

Justin brought the volume back down just as the news flash ended and regular programming started again. He turned to Jenna to see that her arms were wrapped around her waist and that she was shivering slightly.

"You ok?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yeah, it’s just that…it’s hard to believe that people can be so damn evil. What kind of asshole does that kind of thing? And can you imagine what those poor guys went through before they died?"

Justin shuddered as an image of Joshua swimming in blood flew into his mind. He shook his head to rid himself of the image, but it stubbornly refused to leave.

The image stayed with him, long after he had thanked Jenna and had walked her out the door. It stayed with him during dinner and afterwards while he did the dishes and then while he attempted to work on one of his papers. It stayed with him until he finally crawled into bed and closed his eyes to sleep. And sometime during the night, the image that had so firmly entrenched itself in his brain melded into the now-familiar nightmare.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Justin stood in front of the man he now knew as Joshua and watched him bleed.

"Can you hear me crying?" Joshua asked.

Justin did not try to answer the question. He stared intently into the blue eyes and whispered, "Joshua."

Joshua parted his lips as if to speak, but all that emerged from his mouth was a dark trickle of blood.

Justin felt sickened by the sight, but he kept his eyes focused and his voice strong. "Joshua," he repeated, this time a little louder.

More blood oozed down over the now slack lips. Justin felt tears of frustration burning his eyes but still he refused to look away.

He watched in surprise as Joshua fell from the chair and landed heavily on the dark ground below. He lifted his head and stared at Justin. His bloody mouth did not stop him from speaking again, although the words sounded pained and wet.

"Help me."

"I will. I’m coming," Justin answered. He could feel the tears burning small paths down his cheeks, yet he didn’t dare wipe them away.

"Help me."

"I will, Joshua. Wait for me."

Joshua bowed his head as if it were suddenly too heavy for him to hold up. His last words were a mere whisper. "I’m almost out of tears, Justin."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Justin awoke quickly, just as he had on the first night of the dream. His heart pounded loudly in his chest while sweat clung to his body, making him shiver in the room’s cool temperature. He threw himself from the bed and landed without grace on the carpet. Forcing himself to stand despite the intense wave of dizziness that assaulted him, he managed to limp into the bathroom just in time to vomit violently onto the floor. He sank down to his knees and continued to retch until he purged his body of everything he had eaten that day. His body was not done however, and he dry heaved until he thought he would pass out from the force of the spasms.

Afterwards he stayed there, shivering on his hands and knees while he tried to gather enough strength to move. Before too long he sensed a presence behind him and knew, even before he felt the warm hands on his shoulders, that it was Lance.

He felt himself being pulled up from the floor and then he was leaning heavily against Lance as they walked back towards his bed. He all but collapsed into it when they finally reached it, almost pulling Lance down with him.

"Justin?"

He looked up to see that Lance was staring at him and looking more worried than he had ever seen him look.

His voice was no more than a low rasp when he answered. "Yeah?"

"Are you ok? Is there anything I can get you? You want some water?" Lance asked quickly.

Justin nodded. "Water sounds good."

"Ok, I’ll be right back."

Lance was true to his word. Before Justin had even realized that any time had passed, Lance was seated on the edge of the bed and holding a glass of water.

Justin pushed himself up into a seated position and took the drink gratefully. He drank a few sips of it and then handed it back to Lance.

"Thanks," he muttered.

"No problem. Is there anything else you need? Do you still feel sick? Do you want a bucket?"

The words were coming from Lance’s mouth at lightning speed and Justin could barely keep up with all the questions. He shook his head slightly and said, "No, I’m ok now. I’m better."

Lance exhaled heavily. "Jeez man, you scared me. I thought you were dying in there."

Justin managed a chuckle before he slid back down to lie on the bed. Now that the episode was over, he felt weary and drained. "I scared myself. I didn’t think I was ever going to stop."

Lance placed a hand on Justin’s forehead and felt for a temperature. When he didn’t find one he asked, "You don’t feel hot. I wonder why you got sick."

The lie was out of his mouth before he could stop it. "I think it was something I ate earlier. I feel a lot better now…just tired."

"Maybe you have food poisoning," Lance said.

Justin shrugged and felt his eyes close. His entire body felt very heavy and he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay awake much longer.

"Do you want me to stay for awhile?" Lance asked.

Justin considered this for a moment. He knew sleep was right around the corner, but at the same time the dream images which had affected him so violently were still with him. Feeling self-conscious and more than a little childish, he nodded without opening his eyes. "Just for a while?"

"Yeah sure," Lance said gently. He brushed his hand along Justin’s forehead again, guessing that it would help soothe his friend.

Justin relaxed into his friend’s touch and let himself drift away into unconsciousness. His last coherent thought was he was letting Joshua down because Joshua was dying.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another night settles in on the city. Another night where the man walks carefully down the darkened stairs while his mind tingles with anticipation.

It is exactly where it should be; its thin body pressed up against the wall. The man wonders briefly what it is about that wall that seems to give it comfort.

As the man nears, it lifts its head and seeks him out. In its eyes, the man sees something that he loves to see – desperation. Pure and complete desperation. The man hardens without realizing it.

"Why are you doing this to me?" it demands in a hoarse and trembling voice.

The man does not answer. He never answers. It is beneath him to answer.

"Why?" it asks again as it scuttles even closer to the wall.

The man does not answer, and he does not stop moving.

"Why don’t you answer me? Why don’t you talk, you fucking freak? Why?" Its voice is breaking now, sounding more hysterical with every word.

The man lets the insult roll of his back; no need to get upset over such a petty thing. He steps even closer.

"Talk to me! Tell me why! Just tell me why! Just tell me why…why…" Its words melt into sobs of pure anguish that shake its tall and slender frame.

The man stops in front of it and reaches out with one hand. He runs the hand through its matted, blood-encrusted hair almost lovingly. It is sobbing even harder now. With the other hand the man grabs something from a high shelf that only he can reach.

He waves it in front of its face; he so enjoys watching its eyes widen when it is faced with a new misery. A mewling sound of pure fear is torn from its throat as it sees the new weapon.

The man opens the pair of pliers and decides that this time, he will work from the bottom up.


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning Justin woke up before his alarm had the chance to go off. He stumbled into the bathroom where he took his time getting himself ready. The extra long shower and the vigorous brushing of his teeth helped him to feel human again and he emerged from the bathroom ready to take on his self-appointed mission despite the images from last night’s dream still swirling around his brain.

He dressed quickly and headed straight for the kitchen, intent on brewing the strongest coffee possible.

He smiled wanly when he saw that Lance was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and holding out a coffee mug. He accepted it with a heartfelt "thank you" and gratefully took a long sip before speaking.

"You cleaned the bathroom for me," he said as he held the mug in his hands and let its warmth seep into his skin.

"Yeah well, you were in no shape to do it," Lance said.

"I guess I owe you yet another one."

Lance smiled easily. "Man, I’m going to be a doctor. A little puke is like a walk in the park for me. You owe me nothing."

Justin chuckled at the comment even as he marveled at how lucky he was to have found a friend like Lance. "Well, thank you."

"You’re welcome. So are you really ok?" Lance asked as his eyes narrowed with concern.

"I’m fine, probably just something I ate," Justin lied. "I feel a hundred times better."

Lance didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t pursue it. Instead he asked, "How did things go with Jenna yesterday?"

"Great. She was really helpful."

"Uh huh. So what did she do for you? Or am I not allowed to ask?" Lance waggled his eyebrows suggestively as he asked, eliciting another chuckle from Justin.

"Oh please. As if. She needs to grow a penis before that happens. No, she just…helped me out with some stuff that’s all."

"Ok, I get the hint. I won’t ask."

"No, it’s not that…it’s just…I don’t know…" Justin faltered, unsure of what to say so as not to hurt Lance’s feelings.

He was immensely relieved when Lance seemed to dismiss the whole thing. "I’m just giving you a hard time. Jeez, I don’t expect you to tell me everything."

Justin forced a smile and took a couple more sips of coffee before he rinsed it out and set it down in the sink. "Well, I gotta get going. Don’t want to be late."

Lance nodded. "To class right?"

"That’s right, " Justin answered as he started to walk back towards his room. Once inside, he grabbed the drawing that Jenna had made for him and folded it neatly, then tucked it into his backpack. He then walked out of his room and into the living room to find his friend cleaning up the kitchen.

"I’ll see you later," Justin called as he walked out the door.

"Yup, see you," Lance called back as he gave a quick wave.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few hours later found Justin sitting dejectedly on a bench across from a row of bars, restaurants and trendy shops.

He wasn’t entirely sure what he had been expecting when he had started out, but it certainly hadn’t been the string of disappointments that he’d run across.

On his first stop to the police station, he had shown the picture to the officer on duty and asked to look through their missing person files. The officer had been helpful, but the search had turned up nothing; indicating that either no one had reported Joshua missing or that Justin was really losing his mind. Without Joshua’s last name or any additional information, the police could do no more.

After that, Justin had wandered about for awhile, asking everyone he ran across if they knew the man in the picture. Unfortunately, that also turned out to be a waste of time. Los Angeles was huge and sprawling and there was no way for him to even make a dent in his search.

His only other option was to make copies of the sketch and post them everywhere he could, along with his number. He knew it was the next logical step to take but it seemed so daunting to him that at the moment he didn’t even want to get up. He just wanted to sit and sulk and despair.

Two minutes went by before he decided that he would amend his plan. Why sulk and despair on a bench in the heat when he could sulk and despair in one of those cool, inviting bars across the street? Grabbing his backpack, he wandered over to the first one he saw and entered. At this time of the day it was almost deserted, which is exactly what he was hoping for. An old bluesy tune that he recognized as "Still of the Night" was wafting through the air. He walked up to the bar and perched on one of the empty barstools.

After a moment, the bartender walked up to him. "What’ll you have?" he asked.

"Beer please. Miller Lite," Justin said as he began to dig into his pockets for money.

"Gonna have to see some id," the bartender said casually.

Justin shrugged and fished his driver’s license out of his backpack. He handed it to the bartender who looked at it carefully and then frowned.

"This says that you’re only twenty."

"Yeah, I am," Justin answered.

The bartender dropped the id and studied Justin. Justin returned the gaze openly and steadily. There was no fight or rebellion in him; he merely waited for the bartender to make his decision.

"That bad a day huh?" the bartender asked as he cracked a smile.

"Not the worst, but definitely not good," Justin said as he pocketed his license and smiled wearily.

The bartender turned his back to Justin. When he turned back around to face him, he held a bottle of Miller Lite in his hand. He placed it on the bar and Justin took it gratefully.

Justin drank it slowly, savoring the cold, mellow taste. After a while he found himself relaxing, the dark interior, the beer and the music all creating a cocoon that seemed to isolate him from the real world. In the cocoon he could easily forget all about strangers named Joshua and wicked dreams about blood and gore.

The next few minutes passed in silence, which to Justin was just as soothing as the earlier music had been. He was halfway through his second beer when the first few notes of "Take a Walk on the Wild Side" were heard through the bar.

"I love this song. Nobody writes ‘em like this anymore," the bartender said absently as he wiped down the bar.

Justin nodded his agreement and took a sip of beer. Without even realizing it, his foot began to tap to the easy rhythm of the song. He listened as Lou Reed spoke the words to the song; words he already knew due to a father who believed that his son should appreciate all kinds of music.

 _Holly came from Miami, FLA_

 _Hitch-hiked her way across the USA_

 _Plucked her eyebrows on the way_

 _Shaved her legs and then he was a she_

 _She says, Hey babe Take a walk on the wild side_

 _She said, Hey honey Take a walk on the wild side…_

He smiled as the song continued. Great song. Interesting lyrics. He wondered briefly if Lou had been thinking about New York or LA when he wrote the song.

By the time the song ended, Justin had finished and was ready to leave. He pushed the stool he was sitting on away from the bar and stood. Just then the familiar sounds of "Take a Walk on the Wild Side" came to his ears.

"I love this song. Nobody writes ‘em like this anymore," the bartender said as he wiped down the bar.

Justin froze as an eerie sense of deja vu struck him. The bartender had said the exact same words in the exact same tone when the song had played for the first time. And he was wiping down the exact same spot on the bar although it was already clean. It was as if time had rewound and he was experiencing the same moment from five minutes earlier.

 _Take a walk on the wild side,_

 _I said hey Joe_

 _Take a walk on the wild side._

Justin heard the words through his shock and found himself almost laughing at the absurdity of it all. Was this some kind of sign? Was he being told something here? Could he possibly believe that the words to this song were a message of some kind?

Well why not? He had come to believe that the dreams were a message and that Joshua was real. Maybe this wasn’t so far-fetched.

He leaned in towards the man behind the bar. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Do you believe in things like signs and fate and omens?"

The man smiled. "I believe in what I can see, and I’ve never seen anything like that."

Justin thanked the man and walked out of the bar and into the sunlight. He took a deep breath, enjoying the renewed sense of purpose he felt. He had a much more definite plan now. He would spend the rest of the day making copies of the drawing and posting them everywhere, then later he would take his walk on the wild side.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few hours later and Justin was back in his apartment, alternately listening for his cell phone and waiting for the sun to go down so that he could start looking for Joshua. He had plastered copies of Joshua’s picture all over the city and had not yet received a single phone call. He was extremely antsy and wanted nothing more than to get outside and start searching. Finally, after a few more minutes of waiting, he stood up and grabbed his cellphone, his keys and his wallet. If he drove slowly enough, he would be starting the search just as the sun was going down.

He sprinted towards the door and threw it open, intending to run out of it and jump into his car. He would have made it in record time had he not collided with Lance who was five feet away from the door.

"Ouch! Shit!" Justin cried as he stepped backwards and rubbed at his forehead.

"Fuck!" Lance shouted as he too rubbed his head.

Justin looked up with a grimace of pain. "That was bad," he said when he saw that it was his friend that he had run into.

"You’re telling me," Lance answered with an edge of sarcasm in his voice.

"What the hell are you doing here anyway?"

"Nothing. Where were you going in such a hurry?" Lance asked.

"I’m going to work," Justin answered as he tried to push past his friend. "And I’m late, so…"

"Bullshit," Lance said calmly as he put out his arm and blocked Justin’s path.

"What are you talking about?" Justin asked. as he felt a burst of irritation with his friend.

"I know you’re not going to work, just like I know that you didn’t go to school today."

Before Justin could reply, Lance pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and carefully unfolded it. He showed it to Justin who gasped and took an involuntary step back. It was one of the posters of Joshua that he had put up.

"Where did you get that?" Justin asked.

"From the side of a building," Lance said dismissively. "Justin, what the hell is going on? What are you doing?"

Justin looked around and then stepped back into the apartment, not wanting this conversation to be heard by all their neighbors. Lance followed him, shutting the door behind him.

"Well?" Lance asked.

"I’m trying to help somebody."

"Joshua?" Lance asked.

"Yes, Joshua."

"Justin, I don’t get you. You missed class, you’re not going in to work, and for what?"

Justin crossed his arms over his chest. "I told you, I’m trying to help somebody here! Josh could be in big trouble Lance, and I’m the only one that can help him."

"Will you listen to yourself? Joshua needs you? Joshua doesn’t even exist, Justin. He is a dream. He is a man that you made up in your dreams!"

Justin felt a spark of irrational anger at his friend’s words and his own words were spoken without truly thinking. "See, I knew you wouldn’t understand. I knew it. You are so fucking closed-minded sometimes Lance."

Lance moved back quickly, as if the words themselves had jumped at him and hurt him. "I’m closed-minded? Out of the two of us, I’m the only one thinking logically and now I’m close-minded? Oh that’s rich Justin."

"What is your problem anyway? Why the fuck do you care what I do?" Justin yelled.

"Because I’m your friend that’s why."

"Just stay out of it, ok? This has nothing to do with you," Justin said as his voice dropped to a more normal level. He began to move towards the door once more. He no longer wanted to be having this conversation. He just wanted to be out of this apartment.

"Justin…" Lance said, his tone softening.

"I know what I’m doing, Lance." And with those words, Justin stormed out of the apartment, leaving Lance completely alone.

Lance stared at the closed door for a moment before giving it a ferocious kick. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" That had not gone well at all.

"Fuck!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Justin entered the apartment and closed the door behind him softly. It was almost two in the morning and he knew that Lance was asleep. Taking care to move quietly, he wandered over to his room and collapsed on the bed wearily, too tired to even turn on the light.

‘What a waste of time,’ he thought bitterly as he stared up at the dark. He had been out for hours and felt like he had covered half the city, although he knew that he had barely covered an eighth of it. He had been everywhere from homeless shelters to seedy bars to hooker and druggie hangouts – and had found nothing. Nothing at all. No one knew Joshua, no one recognized him from the picture.

To make matters worse, he knew that no one had called him about the drawings he had posted. He had kept his cell phone turned on all night and had not received so much as a single ring.

Now he lay on his bed - exhausted, confused and frustrated, but most of all worried. He was so worried that he was quickly running out of time. He could almost see the clock ticking in his mind; could almost see it counting down to this entire thing’s conclusion.

"Now what?" he asked aloud, although he already knew what he would do. He would keep searching. He would search day in and day out if he had to, and he would only stop until he found Joshua.

Unless Joshua stopped calling for him first.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It shivers so beautifully in the wan light and the man cannot help but be pleased with himself. This one out of all of them so far has been the most beautiful. It has given him a lot of pleasure watching this one suffer because this one suffers so well. The man is almost sad that he will have to get rid of it soon but he knows that he cannot keep it much longer. After all, its body and mind will only take so much before they break and then playing with it won’t be any fun.

As these thoughts silently flit through the man’s mind, he kneels down next to it and strokes its head. He is being gentle, but it still whimpers and tries to move away from him. The man stops this by grabbing its hair and pulling it tightly. It stops moving and stares up at him with eyes wide with fear. In this light, they almost seem to be glowing.

This unnerves the man although he knows it is just a mere trick of the light. He puts one hand over its eyes while his other hand starts caressing its stomach. The man notes with extreme pleasure that it does not move. It shivers and whimpers and cries, but it does not move. The man can feel its hot tears against the back of his hand. The man feels the stirrings of excitement. He feels himself stiffening and he knows that this time will be quick.

This time there is no time for preparation or for anything fancy. This time the man uses only what he has within reach - his own body. He begins to hit it, taking in the grunts of pain that flow so effortlessly from its lips. A particularly hard punch to the mouth slices open its lip and blood begins to pour down its chin.

The sight of all that red drives the man over the edge and he begins to pound the tender flesh beneath him furiously. The more it moans, the harder the man hits, until his body succumbs to the building heat within it. The man comes hard, his sticky seed covering both the floor and its bloodstained skin.

The man looks down, now eager to see the blue eyes and the pain that they hold. He is disappointed to find that it has lost consciousness. He wonders when that happened and why he hadn’t noticed.

The man sighs. Yes, it’s almost time to get rid of this one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Justin was in the dream again, walking towards Joshua. He was scared to see what he would find once he reached him. He almost wanted to stop and turn around, so that he wouldn’t have to see, but he knew that he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t do that to Joshua. Joshua needed him.

So he continued to walk down the dark path until he reached him. Joshua was sitting in the chair as usual. He was covered in blood; his exposed skin a patchwork of bruises and cuts. His blue eyes stared straight ahead, unblinking, unseeing.

"NO!" Justin shouted as he threw himself at Joshua’s still figure. He hadn’t expected to be allowed to reach him, so when he felt cold skin beneath his fingers, he reacted briefly with surprise. He pushed the surprise aside and grabbed Joshua’s arms in a tight grip, then he sank down to the floor, taking Joshua with him. He wrapped his arms around the too-thin body and held him against his chest.

Tears formed in his eyes and spilled down his cheeks as he took in Joshua’s still form. He knew the man he held in his arms was dead. The pallor of Joshua’s skin, so cold to the touch, and the unfocused eyes told him so.

"No, I can’t be too late. Please, tell me I’m not too late. Please." Justin wasn’t sure exactly to whom he was talking, only that he felt the words needed to be said. Maybe if he pleaded enough, maybe things would change, maybe Joshua would be all right. Maybe he would still have a chance to save him.

He desperately pleaded some more but still nothing happened.

Joshua was still dead.

He had failed him. He hung his head and placed a kiss against Joshua’s cool forehead. "I’m sorry," he whispered sadly as he closed his eyes and began to grieve for a man he never really knew.

Time passed and he began to wonder when this dream would be over when he felt a cold hand brush against his cheek.

Startled, he opened his eyes and looked down at Joshua’s face.

Joshua’s lips were moving slowly, his voice nothing more than a whisper. "Can you hear me crying?"


	7. Chapter 7

Justin squinted and looked up and down the dark street uncertainly. The homeless shelter had to be here somewhere, didn’t it? He was positive that the man at the last shelter had told him to go to Cole Street. And this was Cole Street, so where was the shelter?

He sighed wearily and rubbed a hand over eyes that felt gritty and tired. He had gotten up early enough this morning to avoid running into Lance, not being quite ready to face him yet, and had been searching for Joshua ever since. It was now almost midnight and his body was trying to tell him to go home and go to sleep. His mind however, wouldn’t let him give up.

It had occurred to him sometimes around noon, when he stopped for a lunch break, that his behavior was bordering on being obsessive, and for a moment he started to worry about his state of mind. The moment passed almost as quickly as it came however, and he had finished his lunch as quickly as he could in order to continue searching.

Now, standing here on this dank, dirty street, those thoughts were coming back to him ten-fold. After all, he was a college student who hadn’t been to classes in three days and who hadn’t been to work in two. He was avoiding his professors, lying to his boss and fighting with his best friend in the world. And over what? A bunch of dreams. Granted, they were strange and disturbing, but they were dreams. And what if they were nothing more than that?

He had become so immersed in his thoughts that he almost missed the worn sign that indicated the shelter. It read "Dome Shelter for Men" in slightly worn lettering. He stopped and looked from the sign to the building then back to the sign again. This was definitely it, but the place seemed deserted. There were no signs of life outside of the building or any visible lights within it.

He shrugged and opened the door. He had come this far; he was at least going to check this place out. As soon as he stepped inside the threshold, he was glad that he had. The place was teeming with people and activity. He discarded his doubts and once again let his heart surge with the hope that this would be the place where he could find some answers.

He walked up to what looked like a reception desk where a young man was busy typing away on a computer. The man looked up when he heard Justin approach.

"You need a bed?" he asked as he looked Justin up and down appraisingly.

"No, I don’t. I’m looking for someone actually," Justin said as he began to pull out Joshua’s picture. He set it down on the counter. "Have you seen this guy around? Maybe staying here at the shelter? His name’s Joshua."

The young man looked down at the picture, giving it only a quick glance. "No, I haven’t, but you might want to ask Phil. I’m only here part-time. Phil practically lives here," he said with a chuckle.

"Is he here now?" Justin asked as he took the picture back and looked around.

"Yeah, told you he lives here. Just go on in and look for an older guy with glasses. No hair. Can’t miss him."

"Thank you," Justin said as he carefully folded the picture back up.

He walked into the shelter itself, into what appeared to be a really big living room. Old couches, tables and chairs were set up everywhere and the room was packed with men of all ages and races. In the middle of the controlled chaos, Justin spotted a man that fit Phil’s description. He was engaged in an animated conversation with two other men.

Justin walked up to him and stood off to his side, respectfully waiting until for the conversation to be over to say anything.

When the man finished, he turned to Justin and looked at him with obvious curiosity. "Can I help you?" he asked pleasantly.

"Ummm…yeah, I hope so. Are you Phil?" Justin asked.

The man nodded. "Yeah."

"The guy up front said that you might be able to help me. I’m looking for someone."

"Is that right?" the man asked as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Justin unfolded the piece of paper in his hands and turned it so that Phil could see it. "His name is Joshua. This is what he looks like."

Phil looked down at the paper and then quickly looked back up. His eyes were narrowed and full of suspicion. "And who are you?" he asked.

"I’m Justin. I’m a friend. Sort of. It’s really hard to explain but…I think he might be in trouble," Justin said as he tried to ignore the look the man was giving him.

"And you want to find him so that you can help him?"

Justin nodded and waited patiently, wondering where this was going.

The man looked him up and down again, then hesitated as if making up his mind. He finally sighed and said, "Well, you don’t look like trouble and if you’re a cop then maybe you’ll do some good, so…" the man shrugged and said, "I guess I’ll trust my instincts."

Just let out a breath of tension that he hadn’t been aware of holding. "So you know him?" he asked eagerly.

Phil nodded. "Yeah, but around here he goes by JC."

Justin almost fell backwards with the shock. He had gotten so used to people telling him that they had not seen Joshua that for a moment he simply could not comprehend what the man had said. His heart was beating desperately as he repeated the name. He spoke the two syllables softly, taking a moment to taste them on his tongue.

"That’s a really good likeness by the way," Phil said as he pointed to the paper in Justin’s hands.

"Oh, thanks," he said as he tried to pull himself back to reality. "So does JC stay here?" he asked eagerly.

"Sometimes," Phil answered.

Justin’s fingers were itching to take this man by the collar and just shake all the answers out of him, but he forced himself to be patient and ask the next question normally. "Has he been around lately?"

Phil paused to think the question over. "No, actually I haven’t seen him in about a week."

Justin cursed inwardly. "Is that unusual?" he asked.

"Not really. It just means that things are going ok for him."

Justin nodded. "Is there anyone here that would know where he is? Anyone I can talk to?"

Phil shifted his weight from one foot to the other and looked around thoughtfully. Finally he said, "Actually, the best one to ask about JC is Sammy. If anybody’d know, he would."

"Sammy?"

Phil nodded. "Yeah, his pimp."

Justin simultaneously felt his jaw drop and his cheeks redden. Homeless he was expecting and prepared for – prostitute he was not. He knew he sounded impossibly naïve when he asked, "His pimp? He’s a prostitute?"

Phil chuckled. "Guess you don’t know him very well at all huh?"

"I guess not."

For a minute there was silence as Justin digested the new information. Phil finally broke it by asking, "So, do you still want to find him?"

"Huh?" Justin said as he came back to reality.

"JC. Do you still want to find him? Cause I could tell you where to find Sammy. If you want."

Justin nodded his head vigorously. The surprise notwithstanding, he still had every intention of finding Joshua.

After he had gotten the address from Phil, Justin walked outside and leaned against the wall of the shelter. To his surprise, his legs gave way and he found himself sinking to the ground. His hands shook as he brought them up to cover his face. He was crying. But they weren’t tears of sadness. They were tears of relief and joy.

Relief because Joshua was real and that meant that he was not losing his mind. Joy simply because Joshua was real.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Justin stared up at the old building for a moment before gathering his courage. According to Phil, this was the best place to find Sammy.

Sammy the pimp.

He almost laughed at how crazy his life had become. It was one in the morning; he should have been in bed sleeping, but instead he was about to talk to Sammy the pimp about the whereabouts of one of his male prostitutes. He wondered briefly when exactly he had wandered into the twilight zone as he swallowed his laughter.

He began walking towards the door when he heard a voice come from somewhere to the left of him. He turned his head to see a young man, maybe a few years younger than him leaning up against a lamppost.

The man was tall and thin and sported short, spiky blond hair. His face appeared very young, but his eyes were old and weary.

"What?" Justin asked.

"I said – Sammy’s not there."

Justin took a step away from the building and turned around fully to face the young man.

"Oh. Do you know when he’ll be back?"

The young man shrugged. "Hard to say. He comes and goes."

Justin’s heart sank a little at the unexpected problem. He was about to turn away, intent on walking around for a bit and then returning when he heard the other man speak again.

"You lookin’ for JC?" he asked casually.

At the mention of Joshua’s alias, Justin sprang forward and covered the distance between them in three quick strides. He stood right in front of the stranger; surprised that the other man was taller than he was. At 6’ 1", very few people were taller than he was. "How do you know that?" he asked.

The young man shrugged again. "Word travels fast around here. So…you lookin’ for him?"

Justin nodded. "Yeah, I am. Do you know him?"

The young man reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a cigarette and a lighter. He waited until he had lit the cigarette and taken a drag from it before he spoke. "Yeah, I do. But I’m not tellin’ you anything about him until you tell me who you are first."

Justin sighed inwardly. Was everyone around here paranoid?

"I’m Justin. I’m a student at UCLA. I’m not a cop and I’m not out to hurt JC. In fact, I want to help him. I think he might be in trouble."

The young man took another drag from the cigarette. "I’m Wade. And how do I know you’re not lying to me?"

Justin rubbed his forehead in frustration. "Look, I…I don’t know what to say to make you trust me. It’s just that…I’ve gotten these hints that tell me that he might be in trouble. Big trouble, and I want to help him. I don’t really know him, but I want so badly to help…I need to help him." Justin shook his head in frustration. He wasn’t saying the right things, damn it! Why couldn’t he transform his thoughts into words?

"JC’s a great guy," Wade said softly. "I think he’s in trouble too and I don’t want anything to happen to him. Especially after all that he’s been through."

"What do you mean?" Justin asked curiously.

Wade looked up, allowing Justin to really look at his face. His dark eyes were sad as he spoke. "JC doesn’t belong here. Doing this. But he never had a chance, man."

"I don’t understand. What happened to him?"

"JC’s a singer. A really good one. Have you ever heard him sing?"

Justin shook his head.

"Well, he’s really good. That’s why he came out to LA, so he could get in the music business. He was doing really good too. Getting gigs…people noticing him. And then it all went to shit."

"What happened?" Justin asked softly.

"His parents died. Both of ‘em, in a fire. I guess they didn’t have a lot of money, so JC had to pay for the funeral and everything. By the time he came back here, people had forgotten his name. He didn’t have any money so…"

"So he became a prostitute?"

"It’s the easiest way to make money, man. But once you start it’s so fuckin’ hard to stop. You get trapped. It’s like a fuckin’ cage, man. No way out."

"How do you know all this about him?"

"He told me. I think he just needed someone to talk to or something."

"Do you know where he is now?"

"No. I haven’t seen him for awhile. I’m worried about him too."

"Yeah? Why?" Justin asked as he unconsciously drew closer.

Wade took a long drag from the cigarette and looked around nervously. He then leaned in towards Justin conspiratorially. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. "The last guy that I saw JC go with…something about it didn’t feel right. I told him so but he went anyway. I haven’t seen him since."

"What didn’t feel right about it?"

The young man shrugged. "He was in a black van. Vans aren’t cool in this business, cause you can never tell how many people are really in there."

Justin looked down at the dust-covered street and tried to absorb all the information that he had just heard. JC was a singer. JC’s parents had recently died. JC had gotten into prostitution because he had no money. JC had gotten into a black van…It took Justin a moment to realize that Wade was talking to him and that he was supposed to be paying attention.

"I’m sorry – what?" he asked as he looked up.

"I was saying that I’m pretty sure the guy’s from Beverly Hills."

"Why do you say that?" Justin asked.

"Because I saw the van’s license plate. Those plates look different. We get a lot of those guys up here, you know."

"Beverly Hills," Justin repeated thoughtfully.

"Yeah."

Justin nodded, already planning his next step. Beverly Hills wasn’t too far from here. He could take a quick drive through it, look for a black van, maybe talk to the owner in the morning…"Listen Wade, I want to thank you for talking to me. You don’t know how much I appreciate your trusting me about JC," Justin said sincerely.

"No problem. Told you…I like JC."

"Well listen, is there anything that I can do for you? You know – to repay you?"

Wade suddenly fixed him with stare so intense that Justin shivered despite not being cold. "Just find him, ok?"

Justin nodded as he took a step back. "Ok, thank you," he said before turning around and walking away as quickly as he could. He couldn’t quite put his finger on the reason why, but suddenly he wanted nothing more to be far away from this dark eyed stranger.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Justin drove through the darkened streets of Beverly Hills, feeling more foolish with every passing second. He was really losing it. Here he was driving around one of the most up-scale neighborhoods in California and searching for a black van that might hold a clue to the whereabouts of a male prostitute.

He would have laughed at the absurdity of it all, but he was too tired to make the effort. Too tired to think straight, to tired to see well…too damn tired, period.

‘Fuck this shit,’ he thought to himself as he made a u-turn that would allow him to get out of this neighborhood and back home where he belonged.

"Fuck this shit," he said out loud as he banged his fist on the steering wheel. "Going to go home and sleep and I’ll think of something else in the morning. There’s got to be a better way to go about this."

He maneuvered the car carefully as he concentrated on finding his way back through the deserted streets. It was almost unnerving how quiet these streets were at this hour. Especially after having come from the area around Santa Monica Boulevard, which had only come alive a couple of hours ago.

These were the thoughts that were running through his mind as he drove, so when he saw a pair of headlights turn the corner in front of him and then begin to head in his direction, he actually gasped in surprise.

As the other car slowly got closer to him, he had to shield his eyes with his hand. The guy had his brights on, making it nearly impossible for Justin to keep his eyes on the road.

Justin averted his eyes until the car completely passed him, then he turned his head around to take a look at it. What he saw caused him to hit the brake pedal so hard that the entire car lurched forward violently. He would have hit his head on the steering wheel had his seatbelt not instantly tightened. He cursed and quickly put the car in park before turning around as far as the seatbelt would let him go.

"Fucking A," he said shakily. He blinked heavily, not quite trusting what his eyes were showing him. But it was still there. It was real.

Driving down the street, moving further and further away from him, was a black van.


	8. Chapter 8

Justin sat frozen and stared at the van as it made its way down the residential street, too shocked to move or even form a coherent thought. Despite everything that had happened to him during the past few days and all that he had seen, he simply had not really believed that he would come across the black van.

Only when the van turned a corner and Justin could no longer see its red taillights, did he snap out of his trance and move again. He muttered "shit" and pressed down on the accelerator, twisting the wheel as hard as he could to turn the car around. The fact that he was driving up on part of the sidewalk did nothing to slow him down at all. Once the turn was complete, he floored the gas and sped down the street. He turned the corner where he thought he saw the van make its turn and sighed with relief when he saw red taillights off in the distance. They were down towards the opposite end of the street, but not far enough so that he would lose sight of them.

The van drove on for only a few more seconds when it abruptly made a sharp turn and stopped for a moment. Justin slowed his own car down and looked on in confusion, wondering why the van had stopped. A moment later the van was moving again and so was Justin.

Just as he was about to make the same turn that the van had, his headlights illuminated an automatic gate that was mere inches away from closing shut.

Whoever was driving the van was home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The man whistled as he maneuvered the van up the long driveway that led to his house.

He was happy.

He was ecstatic actually. He had decided to get rid of the toy in the back room. It had been amusing and entertaining for a while, but it was no longer either of those things and he simply had no further need for it. And truth be told, slicing its throat open would be almost as much fun as playing with it had been.

The man slowed as he reached his three-car garage. He turned off his headlights at the same moment that he hit the button on his garage door opener. The door slid up soundlessly and he drove in, still whistling a tune that had no name and never would. The night was made all the more sweet by the fact that he had already found a replacement for his toy in the basement. He had come across it tonight and it had looked so promising. He almost felt like a small child again; giddy with excitement at the prospect of playing with a new toy.

But first he had something to take care of.

First he had to dispose of the one he already had.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Justin put the car in park and stared up at the imposing steel gates. He knew he should be turning the car around and heading home. Now that he knew where the owner of the black van lived, he could come back tomorrow and get some information from him. That had been the original plan after all.

Justin drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and sighed. The original plan was a good plan, so why in the world wasn’t he moving?

‘Just drive out of here Justin,’ he thought to himself impatiently. ‘You can come back tomorrow ok?’

Justin sighed again and put the car in reverse, then backed it up enough so that he could drive back the way he had come. Then he pulled the car over to the curb and put it in park and got out, wincing at the slight chill in the air. He turned his face towards the gates.

"Those are going to be a bitch to climb," he said as he began to walk towards them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The man walked into the kitchen and opened his special drawer. He smiled when he saw what he was looking for.

His prized knife.

The only one he ever killed with. The one that was sharp enough to slice through human skin and tissue as if they were merely warm butter.

He held the knife in one hand and closed the drawer with the other.

He grinned and bounced with anticipation.

It was almost time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Justin had never felt so idiotic in his life. Never. There had been many times when he had felt like a total moron, almost too many to count, but none of them held a candle to this one. It was one in the morning and he was lurking around a rich man’s property in Beverly Hills. He was probably going to get arrested. In fact he was certain that he was going to get arrested.

As he crept closer to the house he wondered if his parents would post bail for him or leave him to rot in jail. The thought sent an insane giggle running up his spine and he had to clasp his hands over his mouth to stop himself from laughing. He silently berated himself for even thinking of laughing at a time like this. This was not funny.

Absurd - yes.

Crazy - yes.

But not funny.

He looked around quickly, his eyes searching the darkness for any vicious, snarling guard dogs. Satisfied that there were none close by, he sprinted the last few yards to the house. He didn’t stop until he reached the wall of house, then he leaned close against it as he took a moment to catch his breath.

He was grateful for the shadows that surrounded him and cloaked him and gave him a feeling of invisibility. And although he thought it strange, he was also supremely grateful for the fact that he hadn’t encountered any dogs or alarms of any kind. He expected a house this big to have at least something in the way of protection, but there was nothing as far as he could tell. He counted himself lucky as he crawled over to a window. He cautiously stretched up until his eyes were even with the bottom of the windowpane and he could peer inside. There were no shades in the way and he could easily see into the house. He recognized that he was looking at the living room, a huge spacious living room that was probably bigger than his entire apartment. The room was softly lit and nicely furnished; in fact everything about it bespoke of wealth and elegance and taste.

Justin shook his head. What had he expected to see anyway? Some kind of Frankenstein’s laboratory? Something dark and sinister with cobwebs hanging off the furniture? The thought that this was just an ordinary person’s house hit him. A person with money and maybe a taste for male prostitutes. Ok, maybe not so ordinary, but still…it made him question his motive for being here. He was about to turn around and head back to his car when Joshua’s face flashed in his mind.

As clearly as if the man were standing right in front of him, Justin saw Joshua’s pain-filled blue eyes and tear-streaked face. He could almost feel the man’s need and his fear reaching out to him through the darkness. And somehow he knew that he shouldn’t leave yet. Not just yet. Justin didn’t question the knowledge, he was tired of questioning and not-quite believing; he just let himself accept it.

Joshua needed him, and if that meant prowling around in the dark a little while longer, then that’s what he would do.

With a quick prayer that he would not have to face his parents from jail, he continued on to the next window.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The man stood in front of Joshua and unfurled his whip, letting it drop heavily to the floor. Joshua saw it, and would have cringed had he had the energy to do so. But any energy, any resistance or fight in him was long since gone. He could only stare at the weapon in fear, only able to think of the pain that it would cause him.

One might think that after all this time he would be immune to the pain somehow. Or at least partially numb to it. But he wasn’t. Everything this maniac did to him brought him pure agony.

Joshua kept his eyes glued to the whip as the man began to walk behind him. He watched it slither across the floor and then disappear from his sight completely. As usual, the man didn’t say a word. He never talked. Never threatened him. Never insulted him. No words, cruel or otherwise, ever flowed from his mouth. Joshua hated the silence. Sometimes it made him feel as if this nightmare was only a product of his imagination. It made him feel insane. And it made him feel so very alone.

Joshua sensed that the whip was being lifted in the air, and a moment later he felt it spreading fire against his skin. He would have screamed, but he didn’t have enough energy left to produce the sound. The whip came down again, hard against his skin and the fire returned, only in a different spot on his back.

Joshua opened his dry, cracked lips and moaned softly. The whip would not stop raining blows on his skin and the fire was building into a white-hot inferno. It was devouring him alive. Despite his complete exhaustion, his body began to buck and thrash as it tried to escape from the pain. Then as quickly as the assault began, it was over. The fire ceased to build as the man dropped the whip to the floor. Joshua panted heavily as he tried to catch his breath. He felt the man’s fingertips underneath his chin and he realized that the man had walked in front of him. The man lifted his head gently and stared at him, his eyes dark and intense.

Joshua lowered his eyes, unable to look at that face any longer. He knew what was going to happen tonight. He knew that this man intended to kill him. He would never be able to explain how he knew – he just did. And the knowledge terrified him. There had been so many times during this hell that he had wished for death, begged and pleaded to some invisible god to take him away from all this pain. But now that he was faced with his own death; truly faced with it, he found that he didn’t want to die. He so desperately did not want to die.

The man was still staring at him, but now he was leaning in towards him, that hand still cupping his chin gently. Joshua closed his eyes and felt his tears slide down his face. He felt the man’s lips against his, tentative at first, then more insistent as they parted. He felt the man’s tongue seeking entrance into his mouth, trying to slide past the barriers of his lips and teeth. He finally gave up in trying to keep him out. What was the point? The man always got what he wanted. He felt the faint stirrings of nausea deep in his stomach as he opened his mouth and allowed himself to be kissed. The kiss was deep and seemed to last an eternity as the man explored every inch of his mouth. Joshua continued to cry silently while his world became pain and humiliation.

Finally the kiss was broken. The man leaned back, his eyes not quite so dark now. Now they shone with the sick lust that Joshua had grown so used to seeing. The man lowered the hand that had been holding his chin, but he raised up his other one and moved it behind Joshua’s back.

"Please," Joshua whispered, although he knew it would do no good to plead. There was no mercy. He felt the man’s hand at his back and he tensed. Then the man’s hand turned into a claw, his nails dragging across Joshua’s already torn skin like tiny daggers.

And this time the pain, the fire was simply too much. This time Joshua screamed.

And screamed.

And screamed.


	9. Chapter 9

Justin was about to peer through the other window when he heard the scream.

His head whipped to the side, instinctively trying to locate the direction that the sound was coming from. It was too low and muffled however, and all that he could tell for certain was that it was close by. He froze, unsure of what to do or where to go until another scream, louder and longer this time, came to his ears.

Then another.

Then another.

Then silence. A silence so complete and total that it was nearly deafening.

"Oh God," Justin said softly as the sounds of the screams continued to echo in his head. The agony in them had been so pure, so white-hot…The person who had made those screams had been in so much pain. And if that person had been Joshua…

His mind turned away from that thought, not quite ready to face it right now. Instead he focused again on the location of the screams. This time he had no doubt as to where they were coming from; they were coming from inside the house.

Justin stood up quickly and began to pound on the window, desperate to get inside the house, yet scared shitless at what he would find there.

He grunted in frustration when he realized that the window’s glass was too thick and that he would never be able to break through it with just his hands. He turned and began to run towards the front of the house; intent on trying to break the door down when something on the ground caught his eye. He stopped, then crouched down on the ground to pick it up. It was a large rock, one of the many that lay casually around the property. He took it in both his hands and quickly ran back to the window, then stood a few feet away from it and threw the rock as hard as he could at the glass. It connected with a loud thud and caused the glass to crack slightly.

"Damn it. Damn it," he muttered under his breath as he picked the rock back up and threw it again. This time the rock caused the glass to crunch loudly and the crack spider webbed out, growing even bigger.

He almost had it. One more good throw should do it.

Justin picked up the rock once again and then hauled back, putting all his strength into getting it through that glass. Just as he had thought, the third time turned out to be the charm. The window finally caved in under the repeated assault, sending deadly shards of glass flying into the room. To his ears, the sound of the breaking glass sounded as loud as a thousand sirens and he was sure everyone in the neighborhood had been alerted. He didn’t let that stop him however, as he continued to strike at the remaining shards of glass with his arm. As soon as he saw that there was enough room for him to get through the window without getting speared by jagged glass, he hefted himself through the opening he had made.

Once inside, he glanced around quickly at his surroundings and saw that he was in the huge living room that he had seen before. His head whipped around furiously as he tried to determine which way he should go.

As much as he hated himself for even thinking it, he decided that another scream would be really helpful right now.

He looked over to his right and saw the broad sweep of a huge staircase that led to another level of the house. He decided against going up there for now, opting instead to stay on this level of the house. He walked cautiously through the living room, alert and ready for anything that might come his way. He walked into another room that resembled a living room except that all the furnishings in it were much more casual. He guessed that this was the family room. He crossed this room quickly, then passed under an archway that led into a large kitchen. Everything in here was stainless steel and impeccably clean. So clean in fact that it almost looked like no one had ever stepped foot in here.

Yet now that he thought about it, the rest of the house looked the same way. Everything he had seen so far had the cold, impersonal air of a museum rather than a home. Justin repressed a shiver caused by the disquieting thought and then looked around, his face expressing his mounting frustration.

There were no rooms beyond the kitchen, which meant that he would have to retrace his steps to find where the screams were coming from. Which meant that he would be losing precious time. Which meant that whoever had been screaming could be seriously hurt or dead by now. His mind still wasn’t quite ready to accept that the person screaming might be his Joshua, so it simply turned away from the thought altogether.

He was giving the room one final glance when he noticed the door next to the refrigerator. It was either the door to the basement or the pantry. Justin was willing to bet anything that it was the former. He walked to the door, put his hand on the doorknob and pulled it back slowly. The door opened soundlessly to reveal that it was indeed the entrance to the basement. Justin stood in front of it and looked down the long staircase in front of him. He couldn’t see what was at the bottom of it, but he could make out the faint glow of some kind of light.

Gathering up every bit of courage he had, he put his hand on the staircase’s banister and placed his right foot on the first stair step. He almost sighed with relief when the move produced no sound. Instead he thanked God profusely and continued down the stairs as stealthily as he could.

When he was on the fourth step he heard the unmistakable sounds of someone sobbing quietly. His heart clenched in his chest at the sound.

Joshua. Oh God, Joshua. There was no denying it now. He knew who had made those screams and he knew who was down there now. It was his Joshua.

And he sounded so broken.

Justin’s feet moved swiftly down the stairs now. There was no time to attempt to be quiet; he had to help Joshua. He was forced to stop mid-way down however, frozen by the sight that now met his eyes.

There, in the middle of the room, was Joshua, the man that had been haunting his dreams and his waking hours. He was naked; his chin resting on his chest, his arms high above his head, held there by thick rope that wound around his wrists and that looped around a huge hook imbedded in the ceiling. His entire body sagged as if standing were too much of a feat for him. Even in the dim lighting, Justin could make out the dark bruises on his too-thin body. He could see the blood covering his pale skin like splotches of paint on a canvass. He could see the cuts across the skin – the wounds made by unknown sadistic weapons. Justin felt tears forming in his eyes, right alongside with a burning anger in his heart. He had never felt so angry; had never felt so much hatred for anyone in his life. But he felt it easily for whatever monster had done this.

Justin tore his eyes away from Joshua’s battered body and searched for the monster. He found him immediately. There, about ten feet in front of Joshua, stood a tall man in front of an old wooden table.

The monster.

The man’s back was to Justin, indicating that he hadn’t yet heard him approaching. Justin guessed that he was too engrossed in whatever he was doing. This was the perfect opportunity to get down there, surprise the man and then beat the shit out of him for everything he had done. Justin was about to take the next step down when the man suddenly turned towards Joshua. Justin’s eyes widened in horror as he glimpsed the large butcher knife in the man’s hand.

"Blood will have blood," the man said as he took a step forward.

Joshua lifted his head, surprised at hearing the man speak after all this time. The surprise was replaced by fear when he was what the man held in his hand. He whimpered softly when he saw the man lift the knife and take a step forward.

The paralysis that had overtaken Justin broke when he saw the man advancing on Joshua. "NO!" he yelled as he flew down the remainder of the stairs and charged at the man. The man turned in confusion, the knife still mid-way in the air. Justin reached him, grabbed him by his collar and threw him to the ground before he could even react.

He landed heavily on his back with a loud grunt, dropping the knife in the process. Justin kicked it away from his already reaching hand.

"Don’t you fucking touch him," Justin growled as he advanced on the man.

The man propped himself up on one elbow and stared up at him with a mixture of surprise and rage. "What are you…" he started to say before Justin launched himself at him.

He landed on him directly, causing the man to fall back again and hit the back of his head against the concrete floor. The man was obviously stunned by the impact and Justin took the opportunity to punch him hard in the face. The man’s head fell to the side and blood began to trickle out of his nose. He now seemed barely conscious. Justin punched him again, relishing the feel of the man’s nose breaking against his knuckles. He watched with great satisfaction as the man’s eyes rolled back in his head and then closed.

"Bastard," Justin spit out as he pushed himself to a standing position and stepped away from the man. His entire body shook from the excess adrenaline in his system as he turned around and walked towards Joshua.

To his dismay he saw that Joshua’s head had fallen back onto his chest and that his entire body was very still.

‘Please don’t let me be too late…please let me have gotten here in time…’ he prayed silently.

Once he stood in front of him he placed trembling fingers on the side of his neck and felt for a pulse. He let out a shaky sigh of relief when he felt it under his fingertips.

He was alive.

Thank God, he was still alive.

"Gotta get you down," Justin murmured as he stepped back and looked around for the best means to achieve his statement.

He found a chair a few feet behind Joshua and he figured that that was probably what the man had used to hoist him up there. He dragged the chair over and stepped up on it, then reached up towards the hook.

He grabbed a hold of the rope, cursing his still shaking hands as he worked to undo the knot. It took him two tries, but he finally managed to free the rope from around the hook. Now that there was nothing holding him up, Joshua fell bonelessly to the ground, his hands still tied in front of him. Angry with himself for letting that happen, Justin jumped down from the chair and kneeled down on the dirty floor next to him. He carefully lifted the other man’s limp body from the ground and brought it close to his chest, cradling him like a child.

Now that he was close to him, he could easily see the extent of the damage that Joshua had suffered. He could see the burns and the slashes and the deep purple bruises. He could see the welts and the strange lacerations on the skin whose origins he couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

He began to stroke Joshua’s face gently, brushing away the damp strands of hair that stuck to his skin. He was so much more beautiful than in the dreams – even like this, with his face marred by lines of pain and bruises and swelling. Even like this, he looked like an angel.

"Joshua, please open your eyes for me. Please be ok. Please," he whispered as he continued to touch him, to run his fingers along his cheek, his brow. "Please Joshua…JC…please…" he begged.

He stared down at the still face as he pleaded and was surprised to see that small raindrops were falling against his skin. He looked on in confusion for a few seconds before he realized that the raindrops were his own tears. A short, brittle laugh escaped his throat before turning into a sob. He choked it back, not wanting to lose control now. Not when Joshua needed him to be strong. He was about to wipe the tears away when he saw Joshua’s eyelids begin to flutter open.

"That’s it. Open your eyes, baby," he said excitedly, not even questioning his use of the term of endearment.

Joshua slowly opened his eyes and groaned softly. He blinked heavily and looked up at Justin, confusion evident on his face. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then tensed while his blue eyes filled with fear. "No…no…" he whispered as he stiffened in Justin’s arms. His bound hands came up and pushed at Justin’s chest ineffectually.

Justin held on to him as gently as he could, understanding that the man was terrified beyond reason. "It’s ok. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going to hurt you," he said soothingly.

At the sound of Justin’s voice, Joshua stilled and his eyes seemed to focus. He lowered his hands and stared up at Justin in wonderment.

"It’s you," he whispered.

Justin didn’t say anything; he couldn’t say anything. There were no words that would convey the depth of emotion he was feeling right now, and even if he had them at his disposal, he doubted he could say them without bursting into tears. Instead of speaking he nodded and smiled down tenderly at the man in his arms.

Joshua’s next words came slowly, as if it pained him to speak. His voice was raspy and weak from too many days of alternately screaming and disuse.

"I didn’t think you were going to come, Justin."


	10. Chapter 10

Justin’s eyes grew wide at the sound of his name. For a moment he was certain that he had imagined it, after all, how could Joshua know his name? And yet he knew he hadn’t. "How did you…?" he began to ask but stopped when he noticed that the look of wonder in Joshua’s eyes was transforming into a look of pure terror.

"Hey, it’s ok. I’m not going to hurt you," he said quietly as he wondered why Joshua was suddenly so afraid of him again.

Joshua shook his head wildly, his mouth opening as if he meant to speak, yet he made no sound.

"It’s all right Joshua. You’re safe now. You’re going to be…" Justin’s soft-spoken words trailed off into silence when he realized that Joshua’s eyes weren’t focused on him; that instead they were focused on something behind him.

He didn’t even get the chance to turn around before he felt a hand grab his hair and pull back roughly. He cried out at the sudden pain and, unable to keep his balance, fell backwards. As he fell, he lost his hold on Joshua and he felt, rather than saw, the other man drop to the ground.

Justin tried to get up but the hand in his hair was pulling; no – yanking – again and he yelled out in pain as he was partially dragged across the floor.

As he struggled to get up, an angry voice hissed into his ear, "You really think you can come in here and fuck everything up? Ruin everything I’ve worked for? Well fuck you!"

Justin was about to tell the man to go to hell but just then he felt something slam into his mid-section and he was forced to double over, his breath having been stolen from his lungs.

‘Damn, this guy’s stronger than he looks,’ he thought as he fought to control the pain. He wasn’t even aware that he was being pushed onto his back or that the man was climbing on top of him until the man’s face loomed over his; a face full of rage and malevolence.

As Justin looked up into the madman’s dark eyes, he wondered how the fuck the tables had turned so quickly. How he had become the one that was on his back with the man straddling him. Before he could move, a vicious punch to the side of his face left him hurting and stunned. His mouth immediately filled with the coppery taste of his own blood and he grimaced as he was forced to swallow it. A moment later, he felt cold hands wrap themselves around his neck and begin to squeeze.

He made a small sound of pain as the hands brutally pressed down on his windpipe. He brought his own hands up to try to pry them off, but they would not budge. If anything they felt as if they were tightening around him; digging into his skin. Justin began to feel fear then; icy cold fear as his body arched up, unconsciously trying to get life saving air.

Dark spots appeared before his eyes; spots that soon grew larger and threatened to overtake his vision. At the same time, both his head and his limbs began to grow heavy and he found that he could hold neither up any more. His head fell back heavily against the concrete floor but he didn’t feel the pain. He didn’t feel much of anything.

He realized sadly that he was dying. And yet the sadness that he felt wasn’t for himself, it was for Joshua who would be left alone with this madman after he was gone.

‘I’m sorry Joshua. I’m so sorry…I tried," he thought hazily. He wanted to close his eyes, but the pressure building inside his head wouldn’t allow for it, so he bitterly accepted the fact that the ceiling of this basement was the last thing he would ever see.

Suddenly he felt the hands around his throat slowly dropping away. At first his body did not react at all, then it began to take in great gulps of air. Every breath caused his throat to burn in agony, but he couldn’t control it, his body was literally starving for oxygen. He brought a hand to his throat and coughed harshly as he moved to turn over. A heavy weight on his chest prevented him from moving, so he pushed at it with arms that felt as weak as a newborn’s. He felt the weight lift and he turned onto his side, curling up into a tight ball. He stayed there until his vision cleared, then he pushed himself up on his elbow and looked around wildly as he tried to figure out what the hell had just happened and why he was still alive.

The first thing that met his searching eyes was the blood.

The deep crimson flow seemed to be everywhere. It was on him; it covered the floor all around him and it was quickly pooling under the body that lay face-up next to him.

His mind quickly registered that the body was not Joshua’s, that it was the other man’s, the one who had attacked them both. But if the man was lying here, then where was Joshua?

Justin carefully placed his fingertips against the man’s neck and felt for a pulse. There was none. The man was dead. Justin jerked his hand back, suddenly feeling like he had touched something poisonous and vile. He then looked around, his eyes narrowing as he sought out Joshua’s frail figure.

It didn’t take long to find him. He was sitting against the far wall, his knees drawn up high against his chest. His head was bowed and his bound arms were in front of him. In his hands, he held a bloody knife.

Justin crawled over to where he sat, then kneeled in front of him. It was then that he heard Joshua’s muted sobbing. He gently placed his hands on Joshua’s wrists. "Let go of the knife baby," he said in a voice so distorted that it sounded foreign to his own ears. He winced as his throat exploded with dull pain from the effort it took to say those few words.

Joshua gave a minute shake of his head.

Justin forced himself to ignore the pain and continued. "Yeah baby, give me the knife. It’s ok. He’s dead now. He can’t hurt you anymore."

Joshua slowly lifted his head to look at Justin. "Dead?" he asked in a small, child-like voice.

Justin nodded and gave a weak smile. "He’s dead. You killed him Joshua. You did it."

"He’s dead," Joshua said again, and this time it sounded like he was trying to convince himself that it was true.

"He’s not going to hurt you anymore. So give me the knife ok? And then we’ll get out of here."

"You promise?"

"I promise," Justin said as confidently as he could.

Joshua exhaled slowly and said, "Ok," in a whisper-soft voice.

Justin took the knife by the handle and pulled it out of Joshua’s hands, then tossed it across the room. He untied the rope around his wrists as quickly as he could, all the while whispering what he hoped were comforting words. He looked up after he had discarded the rope only to find that Joshua no longer appeared to be conscious.

Frightened, he felt for Joshua’s pulse. He almost wept with relief when he found it. Instead he put his arms around the unconscious man and held him as tightly as he dared.

His mind whirled with the enormity of everything that had just happened and everything that would happen. So much, too fast. And yet despite the almost dizzying speed at which his mind was racing, one thought stood out in his mind.

He had found him.

He had found his Joshua.

And that was the only thought that mattered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Justin walked into the now-familiar hospital room and sat down heavily in the plastic chair beside the bed. He looked down at the still figure in the bed and sighed. It had now been eight hours since he had called 911 and they had pulled Joshua out of that hellhole – four hours since Joshua had gotten out of surgery to repair the internal damage caused by the man’s beatings – and he still had not regained consciousness.

The doctors had told Justin that this was to be expected, that Joshua’s body needed the rest to begin to heal, but it still worried him. He gently clasped Joshua’s hand, the one without the iv sticking out of it, and rubbed slow circles against the back of it.

"Sorry I was gone so long baby," he began in a quiet voice. "The police wanted to talk to me again. They keep asking me the same questions. I don’t think they believe me when I tell them how I found you, but I’m not worried about it. I know what the truth is. Anyway, I got back as quick as I could, hoping that you hadn’t woken up alone. Nurses told me that you slept the whole time though."

Justin felt the start of tears and he hastily wiped them away before they could fall. His voice was thick with emotion when he spoke again.

"I’ve been talking to the doctors. I can tell they don’t want to talk to me, but since you have no family, they tell me things. They say that you’re going to be ok. That you’re going to have to stay here for awhile, but that you’re going to be ok. They ummm…they were able to save your kidney. And there’s no permanent damage from anything that he did to you."

Justin paused for a moment. "Well, there are going to be some scars – from the burns and the…other things he did to you, but…But you’re still going to be ok."

Another pause as Justin tried to reign in his emotions. "Anyway, I ummm…I talked to Lance earlier. You wouldn’t believe how shocked he is by everything that’s happened. I think he about fell on the floor when I called and told him." Justin smiled ruefully at the recent memory. "He wants to come by later. When you’re a little stronger. Maybe tomorrow or something. You’re going to like him. He’s a really great guy. My best friend actually."

Justin stopped speaking and looked down at the hand that he held in his. He sighed. "I know that you need your rest Joshua, but, God, it would be so nice to see you open your eyes right about now. Just to know that you’re really ok, you know?"

His gaze shifted to Joshua’s face, so peaceful in sleep, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He traced his fingertips along the man’s cheek, then down to his jawline, taking care not to touch the deep bruises or the cuts that marred his face. "I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that I’m being selfish and that I should just let you sleep. And you’re right, I am being selfish. I just…I just want so badly to see those blue eyes of yours Joshua."

This time when he felt the tears starting, he didn’t fight them. He let them come. He let them fall. He dropped his head and cried in a way that he hadn’t done in a long time. Not since he was a child – unabashed and unashamed.

He cried like that for a few minutes, and was actually starting to think that he would never stop crying, when he felt Joshua’s hand move.

It was just a tiny little twitch, almost small enough that one would think it was merely imagination, but Justin knew better. He instantly wiped his tears with his free hand and looked up.

Joshua’s eyes were opening.

Justin held his breath as he watched him awaken. Groaning softly, Joshua turned his head toward Justin as his eyes fully opened. The blue eyes were slightly unfocused, an effect of the medication he had been given. It only took them a moment, however, to grow dark with fear. Joshua gasped loudly and pushed his body backwards, as if he were trying to make himself disappear into the bed.

Justin leaned forward immediately. "Hey, it’s ok. It’s all right. You’re safe."

Joshua’s body relaxed slightly at the sound of Justin’s voice. He looked around in confusion. "Where?"

"You’re in the hospital. You’re safe now," Justin said soothingly.

Joshua’s body relaxed almost completely now, but his eyes still held fear. He looked pointedly at Justin. "Where is he?"

"He’s dead. He can’t hurt you anymore."

Joshua’s eyes widened at the sudden onslaught of memory – of grabbing the knife and repeatedly plunging it into the man’s back. "I killed him," he said with a touch of wonderment in his voice.

Justin nodded. "Yes you did."

"He was hurting you," Joshua said.

"You saved my life," Justin said with a smile.

Joshua gave a little shake of his head. "You saved mine first."

Justin looked down, blushing. When he looked back up, he saw that Joshua was staring at him quizzically.

"Is this a dream?" Joshua asked him.

"No. This is all real. I promise."

"But you always come to me in my dreams. How can you be real?" Joshua asked.

Justin looked confused. "What do you mean?"

Without any warning, Joshua’s eyes filled with tears. "I dreamed about you. Every night. Every night I was in that fucking basement. You were in my dreams and you’d tell me that you were coming and that I had to be strong. I tried to be strong but it was so hard, Justin. It was so hard."

At this point Joshua pulled his hand out of Justin’s grip and, covering his face with both hands, began to sob violently. For Justin it was like watching a dam break open and seeing the raging floodwaters pour out. Whatever Joshua had been using to keep his emotions under control was gone now and what was left was raw anger, fear and hurt.

Justin rose from his chair and sat down on the edge of the bed. He wasn’t quite sure if he should be touching Joshua right now, but he didn’t know how else to help. He hesitantly leaned down and wrapped his arms around the other man as best he could. "It’s ok now," he said. He was relieved when Joshua took his hands away from his face and clutched at him.

"The things he did…to me…" Joshua said brokenly.

"I know…I know…"

"Tried to be strong for you, Justin."

"Shh…you were. You were. I’m just sorry that I didn’t get there sooner. I’m so sorry." When Joshua didn’t reply, Justin continued. "You were in my dreams too, Joshua. You were in my dreams and you were asking me to help you, but I didn’t understand. Not at first. And by the time I did…" Justin shook his head. "If I had only come sooner. If I had only started sooner."

Justin felt Joshua shake his head. "You came," he managed to say before sobs overtook him once again.

Justin held him while he cried out all his pain. He held him as his body trembled and the tears rained down his face and only when the violent sobs turned into small hitching breaths did he finally pull away. He looked down and felt an immense pang of guilt. Joshua’s eyes were red and puffy from crying and his face clearly showed how exhausted he was. He should never have urged him to wake up. He had been selfish. "You should sleep. You look tired," he said as he tenderly wiped away the tears that were beginning to dry on Joshua’s cheeks.

Joshua nodded, already feeling the undeniable pull of sleep, yet forcing his eyes to stay open. "Will you stay with me? I don’t want to be alone," he asked timidly.

"Of course I will. I’ll stay as long as you want me here," Justin answered with a smile.

Relief washed over Joshua like a gentle wave. He knew he would be safe as long as Justin was near. "Thank you," he whispered as he finally allowed his eyes to close.

Justin watched as sleep quickly overtook Joshua, bringing to his face the look of peace he had earlier. He silently moved his body from the bed back to the chair and again reached forward to hold Joshua’s hand in his.

He shifted until he found a comfortable position and closed his own tired eyes, as he too surrendered to sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

Justin sat by the hospital bed and stared down at the sleeping man that occupied it. He had been watching him; both asleep and awake, for the past twenty-eight hours and he could still not stop staring. Joshua fascinated him so much; he felt he could sit and gaze at him forever.

The hospital staff had given up on trying to get him to go home hours ago. They were even kind enough to pull a cot into the private room so that he could sleep. They liked to smile at him and call him a hero, but he knew better. He was no hero. He had merely done what had to be done.

And it had all been so worth it, he thought as he ran his fingers gently down Joshua’s cheek. Joshua turned towards the touch and exhaled, but did not wake. Justin moved his hand to Joshua’s arm and let it rest there as he continued his unofficial vigil.

Time passed quietly and after awhile he casually glanced over at the clock on the wall across from him. He was surprised to see that it was already one in the afternoon. That meant that Lance would be here any moment. Only a couple of minutes later Justin heard a knock on the door. He couldn’t help but smile. Even in times of crises, his friend was punctual.

"Come in," he called out, then immediately regretted it. He shouldn’t have said it so loudly – his throat still hurt like a son-of-a-bitch.

The door opened slowly to reveal a very worried looking Lance.

As soon as Justin saw his best friend, he stood up and began to walk towards him. Before he had even made it two feet however, Lance was across the room and hugging him tightly.

Justin hugged him back and for a moment the two friends merely stood there, both happy to be reunited with the other.

"Am I glad to see you," Lance said as he pulled away from the embrace with a huge smile on his face.

"Same here man."

Lance’s smile faded and was replaced by a look of concern. "Are you ok? How bad are you hurt? Let me see," he said as he began to inspect Justin for injuries. Justin smiled and pulled down the neck of his shirt and allowed Lance to see the small bruises on his throat.

"Oh Jesus," Lance breathed as he gently ran his fingers over them. "That was a close one wasn’t it?" he asked as he looked into Justin’s eyes.

Justin’s smile disappeared. "Too close," he admitted softly. "I thought I was I goner."

"Oh shit, Justin. Your eyes…"

Justin nodded, already knowing what he was referring to. "Yeah, I know. When he strangled me…"

"The pressure caused the capillaries in your eyes to burst."

"Very good, Dr. Bass," Justin said.

Lance blushed and looked down. "Sorry. Insensitive much, Bass?"

Justin gave a small chuckle. "I’m sorry. I’m just giving you a hard time. I’m ok Lance. Really."

"Ok. But listen, if you EVER pull shit like that again, I will kill you myself. Do you have any idea how fucking worried I was?"

"I think my days of rescuing people from sadistic killers are over," Justin said.

Lance nodded briskly. "Damn straight they are." His gaze drifted over to the bed and its occupant. "Is this him?" he asked softly.

Justin walked over to the side of the bed and looked down. "This is him. This is Joshua."

Lance moved to stand next to Justin. In a quiet voice filled with awe, he said, "God Justin. He looks just like the drawing."

Justin’s voice was just as quiet. "Yeah, I know."

"How is he doing?"

"Pretty good considering the hell he went through," Justin answered grimly. "His chart’s right there. You can take a look."

Lance walked to the foot of the bed and picked up the chart that hung from it. He took a minute to read it over, scanning it quickly and with his usual efficiency.

When he was done he replaced the chart and looked up. There was a sadness in his eyes that Justin had never seen before.

"Jesus, what that man did to him…"

Justin nodded sadly. "I know. You should have seen him, Lance. I thought he was dead. He looked dead. All the blood and the bruises…" Justin let the sentence trail away. If he talked about it, he would cry and he really didn’t want to cry.

Lance walked back over to him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I’m sorry."

"It’s all right. It’s over now," Justin said. "And he’s going to be all right."

Lance shook his head and removed his hand, looking down guiltily. "I know he is. And no - I mean I’m sorry about what I said to you that night…"

"Oh no…don’t even go there Lance. You have nothing to be sorry about."

Lance’s next words came out in a rush. "But you were right. You were right about everything. And I was trying to get you to stop. If you had listened to me you never would have saved his life."

"But I was acting crazy Lance. I mean, you had no way of knowing that it was all real. And, well…to be honest, if it had been you doing that stuff, I would have done the same thing you did. You said it because you cared." He paused, wanting his words to make an impact. "And I appreciate it."

"So we’re good then?" Lance asked, looking a little dubious.

"Dude, we’re always good."

Lance breathed a sigh of relief. "Good.

Justin looked down at Joshua who hadn’t moved throughout their entire conversation. "Ummm…he’ll wake up eventually, but I don’t know how long it’s going to be. And I don’t know how he’s going to react to seeing you. So…you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to."

Lance smiled easily as he grabbed Justin’s usual chair and sat down. "Are you kidding? There’s no place else I’d rather be."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Five days later…

Justin walked into Joshua’s room and quickly took his place by the side of the bed. Two days ago, everyone, including Joshua, had finally convinced him to spend some time in his own bed and to eat something other than hospital food. He had gone grudgingly and had begun to sleep in his own apartment at night. But every morning he hurried back to the hospital as soon as he was able and he stayed until he was kicked out.

Despite the fact that Joshua appeared to be sleeping, his eyes opened easily and immediately focused on Justin.

"Hey," Joshua said quietly.

"Hey," Justin echoed as he leaned forward. "How do you feel today?"

"Better. The pain’s better," Joshua answered.

"The nurse said you didn’t sleep well last night."

Joshua looked down and for a brief moment, he did not look like a man that had been through hell and back. He looked more like a man who had been caught trying to hide a secret. He looked so heartbreakingly normal that Justin wanted to cry.

"I don’t sleep well when you’re not here," Joshua admitted.

"I’d be here all the time if I could," Justin said. He resisted the urge to say, "I told you so."

Joshua lifted his head to look at Justin directly. His eyes looked haunted and sad. "I know you would," he said.

Justin shifted nervously in his seat. "I talked to the doctor today…" he began.

Joshua swallowed and nodded, encouraging Justin to go on despite his eyes suddenly growing wide with fear.

"It’s nothing bad, don’t worry," Justin said quickly, hoping to alleviate that fear. "He was just telling me that he thinks you can leave the hospital in about a week."

"Oh yeah. He told me that too," Joshua said softly as he lowered his eyes.

"Yeah and I was thinking…well actually, Lance and I were talking and we both think it’s a good idea if you move in with us for awhile." Justin leaned back in the chair. There, he had said it. Now all that was left was to wait for Joshua’s reaction.

Joshua looked up quickly, the surprise evident on his face. "You want me to live with you?" he asked.

"Yes. We both do. And not only that, but Lance has been talking to his boss, and he’s pretty sure he can get you a job where he works."

Joshua shook his head. "Justin, I can’t…"

"Yes you can," Justin said gently.

"No, I can’t…it’s too much. You’ve done so much already…it’s too much," Joshua said. His eyes filled with tears that he quickly wiped away with the back of his hand.

"This is nothing."

Joshua shook his head violently. "No…"

"Josh please, I can’t just let you walk out of here in a week knowing what you’d be going back to. You deserve so much better than that."

Again, Joshua looked at him in surprise. "What do you mean, what I’d be going back to?"

Justin breathed in deeply. He knew that he was treading on sensitive ground and that he had to be careful. He spoke slowly, carefully choosing his next words. "Josh, I know what you do. I know about the…the prostitution. And I know that half the time you don’t have a place to stay and that you have to sleep at shelters."

"Oh my God," Joshua breathed out as he turned his face away from Justin. "Oh my God."

"Josh, wait, no…it’s ok. That doesn’t matter to me…" Justin said.

"How can it not matter, Justin? How can it not? I sleep with men for money. I’m nothing but a whore."

Justin reached out and, gently holding JC’s chin, turned his head back to face him. It nearly crushed him to see that he was crying again. "Listen to me. None of that matters to me. It’s something you did – it’s not who you are." He let his hand drop and lowered his voice. "Besides, I know why you did it. I know about your parents. I know you didn’t feel like you had a choice."

Joshua’s voice was choked with emotion. "What do you know about my parents?"

"I know that they died in a fire, and that you had to use all your money for their funeral and that when you came back, you couldn’t find a job…I know it all Joshua," Justin answered.

Joshua’s eyes were wide and unblinking. He opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out. He swallowed and tried again, this time managing to make the words come out. "How do you know all that?"

Justin looked uncertain. "Your friend told me."

"Who?" Joshua asked, his voice low and urgent.

"Wade. He said his name was Wade. Tall guy…blond, spiky hair? He’s a…well he was outside of Sammy’s when I went to go talk to him," Justin said.

Joshua shook his head vigorously. "No Justin. I don’t know anyone named Wade. And I’ve never told anyone here about my parents."

Now it was Justin’s turn to look surprised. "But he knew you. He knew all about you."

Joshua sighed heavily. He suddenly looked very tired and frail, as if the conversation had drained him of all his energy. "I guess it doesn’t matter how you found out. What matters is that you know."

"I told you, none of that matters to me. YOU matter to me."

"Why are you so nice to me? Why do you care so much?" Joshua asked.

 _Because I think I love you._

The thought came to his mind unbidden and the words almost passed his lips. He didn’t let them, however. He knew that neither he nor Joshua was ready for that admission yet. Instead he simply said, "I’ve never thought to question it. I just care."

Joshua stared at him for a moment, his face a mixture of doubt and belief. "I’ve never met anyone like you Justin. You are so kind."

"Yeah well, you’re easy to be kind to," Justin said.

Joshua was about to say something else when a yawn interrupted his words. He rubbed at his eyes, careful not to aggravate any bruises.

"You’re tired. Why don’t you go to sleep and we can talk about this some more later?" Justin said as he smoothed a lock of Joshua’s hair from his forehead.

"You sure?" Joshua asked right before another yawn overtook him.

"I’m sure. Go to sleep," Justin said gently.

Joshua smiled faintly and then closed his eyes. The next few minutes passed in silence as Justin watched Joshua drift off to sleep.

He was just about to move to his cot for his own quick nap when the sound of Joshua’s voice stopped him. He looked over at the bed and noticed that the other man still had his eyes closed and that his lips barely moved when he spoke.

His voice was soft and his words slightly slurred and they caused a sweet shiver to run down Justin’s spine.

"Scared Justin…think I love you too…"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Justin drove his car into the parking lot of his apartment complex and groaned when he saw the throng of reporters that were camped out in front of his door. He just couldn’t understand why they were here day in and day out or why there seemed to more of them with each passing day. Didn’t they ever get tired of hearing the words "no comment" from him?

He parked the car in his designated space and got out, keys to the apartment in hand, ready to run the gauntlet.

As soon as he got within a few feet of the crowd, they all turned around as if they sensed him. Questions were thrown at him with a dizzying speed as he pushed his way through them.

"Justin, can you tell us how you knew to go to the house that night?"

"How does it feel to be a hero?"

"Justin, are you still considered a suspect?"

"Is it true that there were at least five bodies in the basement?"

He answered none of their questions. He merely threw out his patented "no comment" and continued to make his way through the crowd. He finally reached the door and was trying to make his key fit in the keyhole when it opened abruptly. A hand grabbed on to his shirt and pulled him inside. He stumbled in and heard the door close behind him.

Smiling grimly he turned around and saw that Lance was peering out through the peephole.

"Thanks for the rescue," he said as he walked over to the couch and flopped down on it.

"No problem. Man, for a minute there I thought they were going to eat you alive."

"Don’t they ever get tired of just watching me ignore them?" Justin asked.

"Face it Justin. You’re a hero. Everybody wants to know about the hero," Lance replied as he walked over to the kitchen and grabbed two bottles of beer from the fridge. He joined Justin on the couch, offering him one of the bottles.

"Not a hero," Justin mumbled as he took it gratefully.

"Not a hero?! Please, you saved a man’s life PLUS stopped a serial killer. Damn Justin, face it. You’re a hero."

"You know what? Can we change the subject?" Justin said as he viciously twisted off the cap to the bottle and took a big swig.

"Fine. So what happened with Josh? Is he going to stay with us?"

"He hasn’t agreed to it yet, but yeah he will."

"How do you know?" Lance asked curiously.

"I just know," Justin replied simply.

Lance sat back and sighed. "I gotta tell you, this whole psychic thing you got going with this guy is kind of freaky."

Justin laughed. "I used to think so too. Now I just go with it."

Justin turned his head and glanced at the tv screen. Not surprisingly Lance had been watching the news, as he had every day since he had found Joshua. He was about to turn his attention back to Lance when he saw a familiar face on the screen. He leaned forward as he stared; completely unaware that he had dropped his beer and that it was now fizzing all over the carpet.

He could vaguely hear Lance calling his name, asking him what was wrong, but he couldn’t make himself answer. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the screen. Vivid memories of standing in front of an old building and talking to a tall, blond man with weary eyes flashed in his mind.

Feeling as if he were moving in slow motion, he finally forced himself to turn towards Lance. "Who is that?" he asked. His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Who?" Lance asked, puzzled.

"The guy on tv. His picture. Who is he?"

Lance seemed to relax a little now that Justin was talking and not just staring straight ahead. "Remember when the police dug up that psycho’s back yard and they found that body?"

Justin nodded, no longer trusting his voice to work properly.

"Well, they finally identified him. His name’s Wade. That was his picture. The cops are thinking that he was the guy’s first victim."

Justin turned back towards the television set, but the picture of the young blond was no longer on the screen.

 _His name’s Wade._

But that couldn’t be…that just couldn’t be.

Could it?

Suddenly lightning quick images were flashing across his mind. He closed his eyes against their almost painful onslaught.

He saw an image of Wade’s suffering as the serial killer brutally ran his knife across his throat.

He saw an image of Joshua sobbing in a dark corner as the monster drew ever closer to him.

He saw a frightening image of his own near death at the hands of that same monster.

And finally, he saw one pure image of himself and Joshua, many years down the road. They were together and happy and Joshua was smiling and beautiful and healthy.

He opened his eyes and found that Lance had a hand on his shoulder and was worriedly asking him if he was all right.

He smiled.

"Yeah, I’m all right. And you know what?"

"What?" Lance asked.

His smile widened. "So is everything else, Lance. Everything’s going to be great."

Lance looked at him and nodded slowly. "That’s great buddy. So are you going to clean that beer up, cause where I come from, that’s alcohol abuse."


End file.
